


For Good

by kellsbells



Series: Broadway, Here I Come [1]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka Bering has arrived at Juilliard. She wants to be on Broadway. She is a loner until she meets Steve Jinks, who introduces her to some new friends, and a girl from England called Helena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Myka Bering was in New York. _The_ New York. And she had just arrived at Juilliard. She had worked so damn hard to get here, and she was finally going to be a student at one of the most prestigious performing arts schools in the whole country.  She couldn’t be happier, not even if she tried. Her mom and dad had wanted her to stay in Colorado Springs and help them to run the bookstore, but she had other ideas. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in Colorado Springs, wondering if she could have been a Broadway star. She didn’t care if she failed, she was going to give it everything she had, and if she didn’t make it – well, then at least she wouldn’t have to regret not ever trying.  Myka was smart enough to know that getting a scholarship to Juilliard was not an easy feat, so she knew she had enough talent to make it. She just had to work hard enough to be worthy of these hallowed halls.

 

She settled herself in her little room in Meredith Willson Residence Hall, looking around at her sparse belongings. It had been a tough day for her. She’d had to make her way alone to New York (“ _I’m not closing the store to take her to New York so she can waste her time playing at being an actress,” her father had yelled, so incredibly supportive as always. But he was nice enough to get her a plane ticket – one way, of course..._ ) and find her way here, to her new school, then talk to lots of new people in order to register and get her keys. People skills were not her strong point. She had mumbled and blushed her way through the whole day. But she was here! She sat on the narrow bed, hugging her knees to her chest, just revelling in finally being away from her father and starting the journey to where she wanted to be - Broadway. She had never been popular at school, but generally escaped being bullied too much by being beneath the notice of the popular girls. She avoided social occasions like the prom, instead working hard on her singing technique, her breathing, or reading about acting techniques, taking every extra class or seminar she could find that was in any way related to musical theatre, singing or acting, all the while watching her younger sister Tracy effortlessly become the Regina George of their high school. Tracy was going to be prom queen, Myka knew it. But she, Myka, the gangly, nerdy older sister, was at Juilliard, and she was going to be on Broadway.  She settled herself under the covers quietly, allowing herself the rare treat of reading Jules Verne rather than reading some dry tome on acting technique or a biography of some actor or another that she wanted to emulate. She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

 

The first few days on her course were a challenge. There were a lot of people in her class, more than she would have liked. She didn’t speak to anyone on the first day, which was filled with introductions to the various parts of the course, but the second day a tall guy with close-shaved hair came to sit by her, introducing himself as Steve Jinks. He was shy too, he told her, so maybe they could be shy together? Myka blushed as she introduced herself, but something about his eyes told her that she could trust him. As it turned out, she and Steve had a lot in common. He was a loner too, and was obsessed with making it as a musical theatre star. Myka was surprised at how easily she could talk to this softly spoken guy. And the best thing was, he told her straight away that he was gay, so not to worry about him trying to hit on her. Myka had just looked at him, open mouthed. She had never met a gay person before (that she knew of) but her surprise was because Steve thought she needed to worry about being hit on by anyone. It hadn’t ever happened – she’d literally never been kissed. Steve just smiled at her surprise and somehow she thought he understood that her reaction had nothing to do with him being gay and everything to do with her own insecurity about how she looked, who she was. From then on they were friends.

 

Somehow, being friends with Steve suddenly meant that she had a gaggle of people surrounding her at lunch and after classes. There was Claudia, a short redhead who was studying guitar and stage management – she couldn’t make up her mind between the two, she had said, talking a mile a minute through a mouthful of fries. And there was Pete, a beefy guy who was studying acting and dance. He couldn’t sing very well but he was really athletic and despite looking like he might be similar to some of the more unpleasant jocks at her high school, he was really sweet and funny. There was Abigail, an older girl who was really serious about drama and was going to be a real stage actress, doing Chekhov and all that heavy stuff. (Myka liked the idea of those kinds of plays but something in her couldn’t get excited about theatre unless someone burst into song at some point. She blamed it on Glee.) She was really pretty with sleek dark hair and knowing eyes. Myka liked Abigail but she made Myka feel a little nervous, like she could see right into her heart. The last member of their little group was Helena Wells. She was from England, had already done some training at one of their performing arts schools but had decided to transfer to the US for some reason. Her accent was wonderful, caressing each word before releasing it into the air like a gift. She had long black hair and eyes that were as dark as Myka had ever seen. She was stunningly beautiful and incredibly charming and, if Myka had her way, she would have avoided the girl like the plague. Helena had all the traits of the mean girls from high school - popularity, confidence, beauty - and Myka had no desire to expose herself to those types again. But if she was to be Steve’s friend, that meant being friends with Claudia, which meant Pete, which meant Abigail, and since for some reason Abigail seemed to like Helena, Myka was apparently now part of a group of friends which included a potential mean girl. She didn’t know how Steve had even met all these different people, and she was stunned to find herself in this position when she had planned for solitude, which was all she was used to.

 

“So, Myka, I believe you are taking the same classes I am.” The smooth voice that interrupted her musings was close to her ear and she jumped approximately four feet in the air before blushing and staring at her feet fixedly.

 

“Um, I guess?” she said. She had noticed Helena on the first day. The raven haired girl always sat in the back row, looking bored with all of the lectures they attended, but there was something arresting about the way she sat, toying with a pencil or a pen languorously.

 

“Do you do that a lot?” asked Helena.

 

“Do what?” Myka asked, confused and blushing even more fiercely.

 

“Blush when someone talks to you? Jump in the air?” Helena was smiling, trying to catch Myka’s eye.

 

“Um, I don’t know about the blushing, but I’m sorry I jumped. I was just thinking, I guess.” She sneaked a quick look at the other girl and then hid her face again in her hair. Helena was smiling at her softly, a little puzzled at her reaction.

 

“Well, you are a fascinating creature, Myka Bering. I shall have to keep my eye on you.” And with that, she was gone. But from then on, she kept her promise. She watched. Myka could always feel those dark eyes on her, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle that fascinated her.

 

The first three months at Juilliard went by in a blur. Myka had never been so tired. Or so happy. She had met new people, was studying hard and doing well in every class, and best of all, she got to sing her heart out every day. Her singing teacher, Ms Vanessa Calder, was an older lady who was a retired actress. By retired, she always said, she meant that she was too old to be the leading lady, and too young to be the mother of the leading lady. She was blonde and classically beautiful and effortlessly graceful. Myka thought Vanessa was one of the most amazing people she’d ever met. She had played every role Myka had ever dreamed of, and her singing voice was one of the most beautiful things Myka had ever heard.  She had a way of always making Myka feel safe, and she clearly cared deeply about all of her students and their development. Myka had never learned so much about her voice from any of her teachers, and Vanessa made her feel confident about her singing in a way that she never had before.

 

It was at a Christmas carol service at a nearby church that Myka first realised how much trouble she was in. She loved the feeling of Christmas services, she didn’t mind what denomination they were, and had made her way out quietly that evening without telling anyone. She didn’t think Steve or Pete or the others would be interested in going, so she kept it to herself. She didn’t particularly think of herself as religious, but there was just such a sense of magic in the candlelight of the church, the sound of the organ, and the raising of so many voices in shared song. And it was a shared song that would be her undoing. Her favourite carol was “O Holy Night,” because the harmonies were so beautiful, so deep and vibrant. The song began on the church organ that night, and a female voice came on the first line, “O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining.” Myka had her eyes closed. She had sung this part many times in the past at her local church. The voice that she heard that day was quite unlike her own light (but strong) soprano, however. It was rich and strong, full somehow of promises, with an intense quality that made Myka’s hair stand on end. She somehow knew who that voice belonged to, and she was terrified to open her eyes to confirm the fact. Something told her that when her eyes met the eyes of the mystery singer, her future would be forever changed. She was right.  When the choir swelled on the gorgeous harmonies of the last chorus and the voice hit the top note on the words “Behold your King,” Myka couldn’t bear it any more. She opened her tear-filled eyes and saw the woman standing in a circle of candlelight in front of the church choir, flames reflected in her dark eyes. It was Helena. Myka shivered. She fled the carol service as soon as the last note faded. She felt Helena’s eyes follow her to the door. She never thought she would actually be pleased to be going back to Colorado Springs.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Christmastime with her parents was going to be a trial. Myka regretted spending the holidays with them as soon as she put her bag on the floor. It had been a long journey and she was really tired. But Warren Bering didn’t give a damn about that. He didn’t give a damn about much, truth be told, except what he wanted.

 

“Pick that damn bag up and put it in your room, Myka. What the hell do you think this is, a hotel?” His face was red and the vein at his temple was pumping already. Myka would normally have shied away and hid in her room, but since she’d been away from his influence, she had gained a little confidence. And she was tired of it.

 

“Well hello to you too, Dad. I had a nice flight, thanks for asking. I missed you all so much.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. But she regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of her mouth. His fist met her lower lip before the last syllable faded from the air, and the world went black.

 

She woke up a few hours later, still on the floor by the front door. Her small bag had been ripped to pieces, and her belongings were strewn all over the hallway. The few books that she had brought home with her had been shredded. Her head was pounding and there was blood in her mouth. She hoped he hadn’t broken any of her teeth this time. It might affect her voice. She picked herself up slowly and quietly began to collect the destroyed remains of her belongings. She noticed that the presents she had brought home for the family hadn’t been damaged.  She sighed and crept upstairs to her bedroom, deposited her belongings and went to the bathroom to check out the damage to her face.

 

The next morning was Christmas Day. She played along with the happy family routine, everyone studiously ignoring the by now spectacular bruises on Myka’s face. Her younger sister, Tracy, was more pleasant than Myka remembered, asking her gently about school and how things were going. Myka answered in short sentences, lisping a little round her busted lip. She could feel herself withdrawing into her old self, and despised herself for it. Later, when she and her mother were washing the dishes, Jeannie whispered to her, “I’m sorry I couldn’t clean up your face last night, your father wouldn’t let me. He said it would teach you a lesson about consequences. But I don’t know what you were thinking, Myka. You know better than to provoke your father like that.”

 

Something in her snapped, quietly, and in that moment Myka decided she was never coming back here. Since starting at Juilliard, she had had a taste of what normal people were like, what it was like to be treated like a human being, and she wouldn’t come back to this. Perfect sister, violent father and enabling mother who never stood up for her? It was enough.

 

“Thanks, mom.” She said it quietly, gently, as she washed the last plate.

 

“For what, honey?” Jeannie said, confused.

 

“For making this an easy decision for me.” Myka went upstairs and packed her few clothes and belongings into a new bag, went into Tracy’s room and kissed her on the cheek, and said goodbye. Tracy would be fine. Her father doted on her and would never raise a hand to her. Tracy looked at Myka in puzzlement. Myka didn’t turn back as she heard her mother’s voice ask where she was going. She let the door close behind her and so began her new life in earnest.

 

She reached New York nearly 36 hours later. She’d made her way laboriously across the country by train and bus, and she was exhausted and smelled bad. And her face looked like she’d been hit by, rather than been travelling on, a bus. It was naturally in this state that she encountered an immaculate Helena Wells in the hallway outside her room. She was trying to get her key in the door with hands that were shaking with fatigue, peering at it through her one good eye, and heard the perfect voice say, “Merry Christmas, Myka,” from behind her. Like the last time she’d been surprised by the woman, she jumped and this time threw her keys, phone and the coffee she’d just bought from the cart outside into the air. She couldn’t have been more ridiculous if she tried.

 

She caught her breath, staring at her feet and watching the coffee pool around her ruined phone. She didn’t know what to say, so just said, “Merry Christmas, Helena.”

 

Hands touched her shoulders, turning her around. Helena gasped as she saw her swollen, bruised face. Myka’s right eye was nearly swollen shut at this point. She had been hoping to get to her room without being seen. The girls who shared her suite were all away for the holidays, so she’d hoped for peace and quiet to clean herself up and ice her swollen face. So naturally she would walk into the one person she didn’t want to see.  She sighed.

 

“What on earth happened to you?” asked Helena, appalled.

 

“I...I had an accident.” Myka didn’t look her in the eye.

 

“And your accident was presumably wearing some sort of class ring, since there appears to be a symbol etched into your cheek.” Helena’s tone was a little scathing.

 

Myka looked at her, and the pity in the girl’s eyes made her stomach clench. Myka’s eyes filled with tears involuntarily.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I don’t really want to talk about this. It was nice to see you.” She turned and kneeled to pick up her keys and dripping phone and the empty coffee cup. As she stood, a hand reached over and took the keys from her.

 

“I don’t know what has happened to you, but I will not allow you to be alone right now, Myka Bering. I will put your things in your room if you wish. But for now, you are coming with me.” Helena’s voice was determined, and Myka didn’t have it in her to fight any more. Her rebellion against her father and her subsequent epic journey had taken all the fight out of her. She nodded, numbly, and followed Helena to the far end of the corridor. Helena opened the door to her suite and guided Myka into a bedroom in the corner with a double bed. Hands gently pushed her down to sit on the edge of the bed, and took her phone and empty coffee cup from her unresisting fingers. She sat there for an indeterminate amount of time while Helena moved around her, her mind blank as she allowed Helena to take charge of her.  A mug of hot coffee was pressed into her hands and she drank, slowly, and swallowed the pain pills that Helena gave her without asking what they were. After she’d finished her coffee, Helena sat on the bed next to her and pressed an ice pack to Myka’s swollen face. After a moment, without thinking, she put her head on Helena’s shoulder and sighed. Helena looked at her carefully, and then pulled Myka gently down so that she was lying on the bed with her head on Helena’s shoulder, and Helena’s arm underneath her. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Helena pulling a soft fleecy blanket over them both. She thought she felt the ghost of a kiss on her swollen eye before she let herself sleep, and relaxed for the first time she could remember.

 

Bright light assaulted her eyes and made her head throb even harder. She didn’t know where she was. The bedroom was unfamiliar, with paintings on the wall that she didn’t recognise, but found oddly compelling. Myka looked around the room and saw a leather jacket on the back of the door, and suddenly remembered what Helena had done for her. She tried to sit up, but groaned as her head spun. Apparently getting the crap kicked out of you and then taking a 2 day epic bus and train journey didn’t help with a concussion. She lay back down slowly into the soft pillows and tried hard not to barf. That would just be the icing on the cake after Helena seeing her like this.

 

The door to the room opened softly and Helena popped her head round.

 

“Ah, you’re awake. I thought I heard something.”

 

Myka was confused, but she was well-mannered enough that she knew she had to thank this girl for her kindness.

 

“Hi, Helena. Thank you so much for helping me yesterday. I’m so sorry for taking up your time.” She tried to get up again, hurriedly, but once again the room started spinning and she had to lie down again before she threw up all over this ridiculously beautiful woman’s room.

 

“Myka, lie back down, for God’s sake,” said Helena, exasperated. “You’ve clearly had a head injury and you need to look after yourself. I have called a doctor friend of mine and he’s coming round shortly to check on you. You are not leaving here until you’re ok.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, Helena, really,” Myka protested. “I don’t need a doctor, I’ve had much worse than this in the past. I’ll just head back to my room and I’ll be fine.” Then she thought, _“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. She’s supposed to think it was an accident.”_

 

Helena sat next to her on the bed, a fierce expression on her face.

 

“I don’t bloody care if you heal like Captain America, Myka, you’re still obviously suffering from a concussion and I can’t in good conscience allow you to stay on your own. So you can argue with me and probably pass out trying to get back to your room, or you can stay here, be looked after, and go back to your dorm when you’re better. From the look of you, I would say you’ll probably vomit if you move, so in the interests of keeping my bed vomit-free, I suggest you remain still and do what you’re told. Alright?” Helena frowned at her so fiercely that Myka couldn’t help but giggle. Her accent was so adorable, when she said the word “vomit” she actually made it sound cute. Myka wondered what was in the pills that Helena had given her. She felt like she might be a little high. Helena smiled down at her, eyebrow raised.

 

“Now you’re laughing at me? That’s all the thanks I get, eh?” She reached over and smoothed Myka’s hair back behind her ear, smiling fondly. Myka’s breath stopped for a minute as Helena’s warm hands touched her skin. She stared at the other girl, mouth agape.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted, surprising herself almost as much as Helena.

 

“What do you mean? Why am I looking after you?” Helena quirked her eyebrow quizzically.

 

“Yes, that’s what I mean. You didn’t have to. I just threw all my stuff on the floor like an idiot and you should have laughed at me, but you helped me instead. Why? I’m not worth it.” Myka was really, genuinely puzzled. No-one had ever given a damn about her bruises and broken bones in the past. Her getting knocked around by her dad was practically a Colorado Springs tradition.

 

“Well, firstly because you squealed like a little girl and threw all of your belongings on the floor because you apparently didn’t hear me approaching, and I found that truly, wonderfully sweet. And secondly, because someone clearly hurt you very badly when you went home to Colorado and I have a problem with that. And thirdly, Myka Bering,” and at this she took Myka’s chin in her hand and turned her head so that she had no choice but to meet her eyes, “you most certainly _are_ worthy of being looked after. And I would be fascinated to know why on earth you would believe otherwise.” Her tone was stern, and her eyes dark but somehow burning brighter than they had at the Christmas service a few days before. Myka didn’t know what to say, and she couldn’t look away. The silence between them grew thicker, and Myka swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

 

A loud knock at the other door broke the silence. Helena took her hand away from Myka’s face gently, and got up to greet the doctor.

 

“Dr McPherson. Thank you for coming,” she said in melodious tones.

 

The man she showed into the bedroom was clad in a tweed suit, carrying a doctor’s leather bag and smelling faintly of cigars. He was thin and greying, and naturally was as English as Helena herself.

 

“Hello, Ms Bering,” he said, sitting on a chair near the bed. “I believe you’ve had a bit of a mishap.”

 

“Yes, I’m afraid I have,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. Thankfully he didn’t ask any more questions, but checked her pulse and blood pressure and shone a light in her eyes and all the usual stuff that doctors do.

 

“Well, it looks like you probably had a concussion originally, and since then I understand that you have been travelling on buses and the like?” Myka nodded.

 

“Not the best idea, in the circumstances, but I think it’s just a mixture of exhaustion and the after effects of the head injury. Nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t think, but you will need to stay with someone for a few days until your headache has gone entirely. If it doesn’t, I want you to call me and we’ll do some more tests to make sure there’s no fracture. But I’m fairly confident there’s nothing to worry about.” He stood up and turned to Helena. “Now, I know you are well aware of how to look after someone in this condition, my dear, so I will leave her in your capable hands. But if anything changes, you must call me immediately.” He shook hands with them both and bustled out as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving Helena with a prescription for painkillers.

 

“So, Myka,” Helena said, “I hope you will take Dr McPherson’s word that you need to stay with me for a few days. I don’t want you to end up being hospitalised, ok? So if you can bear my company, I will keep an eye on you until your head heals a little. And I don’t want any arguments.” Her voice was so fierce that Myka shrank back into the pillows a little.

 

“O...Okay,” she stammered. Helena smiled at her and swept out of the room.

 

The next few days were a revelation for Myka. She had never before in her life been treated this way, as if she was someone who mattered. Helena was so solicitous that Myka couldn’t understand how she’d ever feared this girl. Helena fed her soups and other soft foods so as not to hurt her damaged mouth, helped her to the bathroom, kept her supplied with hot drinks and ice packs, and fed her pain pills every time she saw the frown on Myka’s face that indicated the headache was returning.  They talked about their favourite musicals, the roles they wanted to play, watched movies and crappy TV shows together, and when it was getting late Helena read to Myka to help her get sleepy, and then she crawled into the bed beside her and stroked her hair when she thought Myka was sleeping.  Myka didn’t know what to make of it all, so she spent most of her time just watching Helena as she moved around the room, fussing over Myka, or while she read to Myka from one of her really old books. ( _“Why did English people all have old stuff? Did they all have castles and moats too?” Myka idly thought to herself. She may have been slightly high, once again, from the pain pills._ )

 

On the third day, they’d just eaten some lunch and were watching a rerun of “Diagnosis Murder”, and Myka suddenly asked a question that had been on her mind.

 

“Why did Dr McPherson say you knew how to look after someone with these injuries?”

 

Helena turned to look at her.

 

“How about a trade, Myka? You tell me how you got those injuries – the truth, this time – and then I’ll tell you what you want to know?” Her eyes were serious and a little angry. Myka swallowed, eyes wide, and shook her head, slowly, before dropping her eyes to her lap guiltily.

 

“I thought you might say that.  Perhaps one day you’ll trust me enough to talk to me about whatever it is.” Helena squeezed her hand briefly before turning back to Dick Van Dyke’s adventures in crime solving. That night when Myka was pretending to sleep, though, Helena stroked her hair and kissed her temple gently, whispering, _“Who did this to you, sweetheart?”_ softly, sadly, before turning over to go to sleep. A feeling Myka couldn’t name welled up in her, and tears stained her pillow until she finally went to sleep.

 

The next day her headache was almost gone, and she protested when Helena said she needed to stay until it was gone.

 

“You’ve already wasted enough of your time on me, Helena. I can look after myself now, thank you. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to...” She was silenced by a finger on her lips.

 

“I am quite sure you can look after yourself, Myka Bering. But, I choose to make sure that you are ok before letting you go back to your own room. I’ve seen what can happen when people are injured like this, and I don’t want that happening to someone I...care about. So please, indulge me for one more day.” Myka began to protest, but Helena repeated, “Please...” with the most adorable pout on her face that Myka just couldn’t argue.

 

“Okay, you win, but I don’t know how I’m going to make this up to you,” Myka said, shaking her head.

 

Helena flashed her a sly grin. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Ms Bering.” And with that, she was gone, off to make some sort of miraculous breakfast as she had the previous few days. Myka stared as the door closed behind Helena, wondering, _“Was she just flirting with me?”_ She dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived. There was no way someone that beautiful would ever flirt with her.

They had breakfast together in companionable silence, but Myka couldn’t help but watch Helena while she ate, wondering why the hell this woman had spent her Christmas holidays looking after someone she barely knew, let alone someone like Myka. Helena caught her looking eventually, and smiled at her softly.

 

“You do look so much better today, Myka. You have some colour in your cheeks finally.”

 

( _“Only because you just caught me staring at you like a village idiot,” Myka thought, but didn’t say._ )

 

“Perhaps you’d like to go for a walk, to get some air?” Helena asked.

 

“Um...sure, that sounds like fun,” Myka said. Helena helped her to the bathroom and she washed up, got dressed in some of her workout clothes, and made her way out into the main area of the suite, where Helena was waiting.

 

“Wonderful. Shall we?” She offered her arm to Myka courteously. Myka took it, hesitantly, but truth be told she was a little shaky after getting showered and dressed. They made their way outside together and found a bench near a small patch of grass. Myka sat down, sighing from sudden tiredness.

 

“Are you okay, Myka?” Helena asked, concerned.

 

“Yeah, just a little tired I guess. Haven’t been off my feet for this long in a while, you know?” She shot a sidelong glance at Helena who was peering at her with slightly narrowed eyes. She flushed, embarrassed by her lack of stamina.

 

“Perfectly understandable,” said Helena. “And here I am making you walk around like you haven’t been stuck in bed for 3 days! I am sorry, Myka.” She looked upset, suddenly.

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Myka, hurriedly. “I wanted to go outside. It’s not your fault, really. I should have realised.” They smiled at one another, shyly, and the moment passed.

 

Myka woke up an indeterminate amount of time later with her head on Helena’s shoulder.

 

“Oh God,” she groaned, “I’m so sorry. I bet I drooled on you and everything...” She looked up and Helena’s face was suddenly too close, her breath on Myka’s mouth.

 

“It’s ok, you needed to rest.” Helena said gently. Her eyes were dark, huge in the afternoon light. Myka suddenly couldn’t breathe. Or talk. Or think.

 

Myka blushed and moved away slowly, dragging her eyes away from Helena’s.

 

“Maybe we should go back inside? It’s pretty cold.” Helena nodded, not looking away.

 

Myka stood up shakily, and Helena took her arm once again to support her on the walk back to their room. No, not their room, _Helena’s_ room, she reminded herself. This whole thing was really confusing. First she had walked out of her home in Colorado for good, and as if that wasn’t a big enough change, this wonderful woman was treating her like she was something precious. Something of her confusion must have shown in her face, because Helena’s eyebrows drew together in a frown.

 

“Come on, let’s get you back inside, you look really tired.” They made their way back to the room slowly. Myka’s head was beginning to ache, whether from the exertion or from the confusing spiral of her thoughts, she didn’t know.  She fell into bed as soon as they reached Helena’s room, and was asleep before she could get a word out. Helena sat on the chair beside the bed, watching her closely until she was fully asleep, before taking out a book and reading. Myka woke long enough to have a little soup in a mug, but was asleep again before she could finish it. Helena caught the mug before the soup could splash onto the covers.

 

That night Myka was too deeply asleep to notice anything that went on around her. But had she been able to, she would have heard soft sobs from behind her, as Helena pressed her face into Myka’s back. She woke the next morning to find herself being held closely, Helena pressed to her back with her arms tightly around Myka’s waist. Her breath was hot on Myka’s neck. Myka stayed as still as she could, not knowing whether she was enjoying the contact, or terrified by it. Her body betrayed her by shivering at Helena’s next breath. She heard the soft breathing behind her change as Helena woke up, realising where she was and who she was pressed against.

 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Myka. I’m half smothering you! I’m really sorry - I suppose I must have been cold in my sleep.” She moved away from Myka, and it was her turn to flush in embarrassment.

 

“It’s ok,” Myka murmured, turning her body over to face Helena. “You kept me warm. I can hardly complain about that.” She smiled at Helena, trying to alleviate her embarrassment a little. “And you’ve been so kind to me, I definitely won’t complain about a little friendly smothering.”  She grinned at Helena and squeezed her hand for a second.

 

She got up quickly after that, and had a quick shower. She felt much more human, and the swelling on her face was almost gone. The bruises would take weeks to fade completely, but there was nothing she could do about that other than using a little makeup to cover the worst of it. When she got out of the shower, Helena was of course reading, her legs pulled up underneath her on the little chair in her room. She looked up as Myka entered the bedroom, giving her a gentle smile.

 

“So, I guess it’s time for me to be on my way!” Myka said brightly. “My headache is gone and so is the swelling.”

 

Helena just smiled.

 

“I...I am so grateful to you for looking after me, Helena. No-one has ever cared for me like that before.” Helena looked at her, searching her eyes.

 

“Really? Never?”

 

Myka shook her head, biting her lip a little in confusion.

 

“Then they are idiots, Ms Bering. You are definitely worthy of being cared for.” Helena’s voice was soft and her eyes were dark and unreadable. Something clutched at Myka’s heart at the intensity in Helena’s eyes. She stepped forward and took Helena’s hand in hers for a second, and squeezed.

 

“Thank you,” she said simply.

 

“You know, it is still a few days until everyone returns from their holidays. You could...perhaps we could have meals together or coffee, stave off the loneliness a bit?” Helena was flushed and hiding her eyes from Myka.

 

Myka didn’t know how to react to this. But it was clear that Helena was lonely and Myka knew what it felt like to be lonely. She knelt on the floor next to Helena, still holding her hand.

 

“We can spend all our time together if you like, Helena. I enjoy your company and believe me when I say that I don’t have anything better to do.” It felt odd to be reassuring the other woman, who was usually so self-assured and unreachable.

 

Helena looked down at her and smiled.

 

“Thank you. I would like that.”

 

And so it was that, while Myka’s things moved to her own room down the hall, Myka herself remained in Helena’s room until the rest of the student body returned. Like the last few days, Helena insisted on looking after Myka, making sure she ate and slept enough, and in turn, Myka talked to Helena, to take the edge off her loneliness. They talked about everything, their childhoods, their hopes, their dreams. One afternoon she even told Helena, in very general terms, about her father and his abusive behaviour, and how it had made her into a person that no-one would touch, as if the drama and damage was contagious. Helena read to Myka every night, refusing to read Jules Verne, who she described as ‘a hack’, but instead concentrating on Dickens and HG Wells. When Myka accused her playfully of being a fan just because the writer was her namesake, Helena pouted.

 

“He is also my great-great grandfather, I’ll have you know. There might even be a few more ‘greats’ in there. I’ve always read his books, it’s tradition in our family.”

 

Myka was stunned. “Really? You’re related to _the_ HG Wells! That’s awesome!” She danced around the room in excitement, and a noise escaped her that could only be described as a “squee”. Helena laughed loudly at her antics, her head thrown back. It was the most free Myka had ever seen her. Her heart constricted in her chest as she suddenly realised _“I’m in love with her.”_

Luckily she had a lot of practice at hiding her feelings while living under the iron fist of Warren Bering, so she wiped the stunned look off her face and got back on the bed, gesturing imperiously for Helena to continue reading. She closed her eyes and hoped that her face wouldn’t show any of the confusion racing through her mind. It was later that night when she awoke to the now familiar feeling of Helena stroking her hair that she wondered if she was the only one who had fallen in love that week.

 

Their time together came to a rather noisy end as students began to arrive back in the campus housing.  Doors slammed and loud voices echoed around the corridors as Myka woke up, with Helena pressed close against her once again. It hadn’t seemed worth traipsing down the corridor to her room the night before, so she had stayed here. Again. Helena didn’t seem to mind. Myka still didn’t know what to make of it. But she was honest enough with herself to realise that she loved waking up like this, with Helena’s soft body against hers, warm breath in her ear, and arms tightly around her waist. It was so warm, so welcoming, so _right_ that it almost made her cry. She very carefully stayed still to savour the feeling for as long as she could, because she didn’t know if she would ever stay here again, now that Helena’s roommates (and her own) were back.  It was a while later when she felt Helena stir, and she froze as she distinctly felt lips against her ear. She still didn’t move, terrified and exhilarated. The lips moved down to her jaw, and then her neck. She took a sharp breath, frozen in complete and utter confusion. Helena suddenly moved back, and Myka turned over to find her companion staring at her in horror, hand over her mouth and face blazing with embarrassment.

 

“Myka, you must think I’m some sort of weirdo.” Her eyes filled with tears.

 

“No, I don’t think anything of the kind, Helena! Don’t be silly! But...what...what were you doing?”

 

Helena hid her face in her hands.

 

“I was having a dream, and I suppose I must have thought I was still asleep. I’m so sorry, Myka. God...”

 

Myka laughed a little, softly, and lifted Helena’s chin with one hand so she could look at her and see that Myka wasn’t bothered by what had happened. (She was, but she didn’t want to embarrass Helena.)

 

“Must have been some dream, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows at Helena, who huffed out a laugh of surprise.

 

“Anyway, it was nice. No-one has ever touched me like that before. So don’t apologise, ok?” She looked at Helena, eyes wide as she tried to persuade her.

 

“Okay. I won’t apologise. But I can’t believe that someone as beautiful as you has never been kissed like that before. Was everyone in Colorado Springs an idiot?”

 

Myka flushed. “You are such a flirt, Helena Wells! I could almost believe you!“

 

Helena raised an eyebrow at her and said, “You should believe me, my dear, because it is true. You are a beautiful creature, and the fact that you don’t know that just makes you more so.” Myka thought her head might explode as she looked into Helena’s eyes. The woman really meant it. Or she seemed to. Myka bit her lip again in confusion.

 

“And, just for that, Myka Bering...” she heard, before full lips touched her own for the first time in her short life. The kiss was soft and tasted a little bit like strawberries from the remains of Helena’s lip gloss.  And as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and Helena was chuckling as she left the room, towel in hand, to take a shower. Myka lay there for what felt like hours, eyes wide and one finger touching her lips.

 

A door slamming in the corridor brought her back to herself and she suddenly decided it was time to get out of there before she did something she couldn’t take back. She gathered her books and the other items that were strewn around Helena’s room, and made a hasty exit without being seen. She did leave a note, however, on top of “The Invisible Man” on Helena’s desk. It was a post-it note and it simply said, “Thank you. For everything.”

 

Later that afternoon Myka was lying on her bed, arms behind her head, her mind awhirl with confusing thoughts, when a knock came at the door. She opened it and smiled broadly when she saw Helena. The girl looked confused, and her hands were behind her back.

 

“Hi, Helena.”

 

“Hello, Myka.” She looked up at Myka from under lowered lashes, uncertain. “You left, and I thought you might be upset with me.”

 

Myka said, “No, Helena. Not upset. I just thought it was time I got out of your hair before all your roommates came back and started asking why you had a poor abused woman in your room all over Christmas and New Year. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

Helena smiled in relief.

 

“I brought you something,” she said, shyly.

 

Myka’s brows knit in confusion. “You brought me something? Why? I should be getting you gifts for all you’ve done for me this last week!”

 

Helena brought a wrapped package from behind her back. Myka wordlessly invited her to sit on the bed, and she sat down and unwrapped the package slowly. It was a brand new smartphone, top of the range. Much more expensive than the one Myka had destroyed when Helena had surprised her.

 

“It’s probably selfish of me but I wanted you to have a phone, so maybe we could talk sometimes. I really enjoy talking to you.” Helena was examining her fingernails carefully as she spoke.

 

Myka held the box towards Helena, shaking her head.

 

“I can’t accept this, Helena. I can’t afford anything like this. My phone cost less than that damn cup of coffee I spilt on it!”

 

Helena stood up suddenly and made her way to the door. She opened it and looked back at Myka, flashing a quick smile. She said, “You can owe me,” before disappearing from the room like a ghost. Myka sat in the chair, open mouthed. She switched the phone on, and noticed that there was already a number programmed in. Helena’s. She grinned, shaking her head.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The first call Myka made on her new phone was not to Helena, however. It was to Steve. Thankfully he had just arrived back from his Mom’s house and said he was planning to come over anyway. There was a knock on her door a few minutes later and she let him in, hiding her face behind the door until she could close it. She gave him a big hug, and when she let go and stepped back, Steve swore loudly when he saw the bruising on her face.

 

“What the fuck!” _(Myka was shocked. Steve very rarely swore.)_ “What happened to you, Myka?” His blue eyes were blazing with anger.

 

Myka was taken aback. She’d grown used to people’s eyes sliding past her bruises and ignoring what her dad did to her, and some part of her, despite Helena’s concern, had still believed that people wouldn’t care. Her eyes were suddenly filled with tears, and Steve enveloped her in a tight but careful hug.

 

“Whoa, Myka, I’m really sorry. Are you hurt anywhere else? What the hell happened to you?”

 

She stepped back and gestured for him to sit down on the bed. She sat on the chair and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing softly.

 

“You know, believe it or not, Steve, this isn’t even why I wanted to talk to you,” she indicated her face wryly. “But what happened was, I went home to Colorado Springs for the holidays, and my dad hit me – how many times, I don’t know, because his first punch knocked me out.” There was a sharp intake of breath from Steve, but she didn’t look up, and continued, “I think he stuck to my face though because I haven’t found any other bruises. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not going back there. I picked up my things the next evening and left, because my mom decided to tell me off for provoking my dad and I guess something snapped – like, why the hell should I be sorry for provoking him - which I didn’t, by the way, not really - but he shouldn’t be sorry for beating the crap out of his daughter her whole life?” Steve reached over and squeezed her knee, clearly not knowing what to say.

 

“Anyway, could I...could we talk about something else?” She looked at him, finally, and was stunned to see tears in his eyes.

 

“Of course we can. We can talk about whatever you like. But first,” he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and caught both of her hands in his, looking her in the eye with a stern expression, “I want you to know that what has happened to you – what your dad did – that’s not ok. It seems like people have been telling you it is, from the way you’re reacting to me right now, but it’s not. And the fact that you have grown up to be so strong and so clever and beautiful despite what has happened to you? Well, that just blows me away. I want you to know that I think you are amazing, and while I think you probably won’t believe that now, I hope you will someday. I’m really glad I met you, Myka Bering.” He moved to her quickly and squeezed her tightly, kissing her softly on her bruised cheek.

 

“So,” he said brightly, giving her time to wipe away the tears that his pronouncement had shocked out of Myka, “what did you want to talk about?”

 

“Well,” she said softly, still wiping her face. “It’s Helena.”

 

He nodded his head slowly. “Okay. She was here over the holidays, and I’m guessing you were too, huh? Did something happen between you two?”

 

She looked up at him, shocked. “What? No, not really. Or yes.” She sighed. “I’m not sure.”

 

He settled back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and swinging his long legs up.

  
“Come on, Mykes, spill. Tell Uncle Steve.”

 

She giggled and then took a deep breath, “It started when I got back from Colorado. She said Merry Christmas and I jumped, and she...”

 

 ~

 

The next day was their first day back at school, and the first class was a lecture on theatre history. Steve sat on Myka’s left, as usual, but she was surprised to find a familiar face on her right, too. Helena had forsaken her usual spot at the back of the hall and was sitting next to her. Myka smiled at her shyly and said, “Hi.”

 

“Hi yourself,” said Helena, softly, returning the smile full force.  They could have stayed there for hours, just smiling, Myka thought, if Steve hadn’t interrupted.

 

“Morning Helena. Did you have an enjoyable holiday?” He smiled at her, all innocent baby blues. Helena’s brow furrowed a little in confusion, but she smiled back and said, “Yes, it was much more pleasant than I had expected, actually.” And her eyes returned to Myka’s.

 

They fell into an easy routine, the three of them. The rest of the group still surrounded them at lunch and after classes, and they went out for food together and drank (even though they were all technically underage except Abigail, but Helena thought that was stupid since the drinking age in the UK was 18) and danced and did karaoke and the usual stuff that people their age did to blow off steam. But the three of them shared most of their classes and soon, shared most of their histories. Since Myka had returned at Christmas, she couldn’t very well hide her past issues from them. Her bruises had been concealed from the others by the judicious application of makeup by Steve. Steve was a sweet, quiet man, but he too had his issues. His sister had been murdered and he was finding it difficult to maintain a relationship with his mother because she had spoken out in support of the killer, of all things. Myka understood why, though. The kid who killed Olivia, Steve’s sister, had made a horrible mistake and was facing the death penalty. Steve’s mom’s support had changed the judge’s mind and he’d been sentenced to prison instead. Steve couldn’t let it go though, even though Myka thought he knew, deep down, that his mother had been right. She and Helena both supported him and one night, had held him close between them while he cried it out. The night that Helena told them about her past, though, Myka would remember for the rest of her life.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena opens up to Myka and Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just noticed that I didn't mention, as I meant to, that this fic was inspired by the work of several other much more talented people. Put your records on by Granger4013, Stages by MrsDaphneFielding, and pretty much anything by Apparitionism that mentions Helena and music in the same sentence - most notably, Soon, in which she is a hot violinist. There are mentions of suicidal ideation in this chapter, not to mention death and sadness and depression and all sorts of other fun stuff. It's HG Wells, for the love of God, what did you expect?

It was cold and crisp outside, snow falling softly on a busy February day in New York city. The three of them were in Helena’s room, Steve sprawled out on the bed with his legs over Myka’s. She was sitting at the end of the bed, a pillow behind her, groaning from the extensive dance practice they’d done that day. She thought she was the world’s crappiest dancer, but something about the way Helena’s eyes had lingered on her when she and Steve had practised the routine together told her that maybe she wasn’t that bad after all. And the way she’d licked her lips. Myka had her head back against the wall with a pillow behind her, and her eyes shut, contemplating the oddness of their relationship. The television was on, a rare occurrence in Helena’s room, but Idina Menzel was performing on some show or another that was due to be on after the news. Myka heard an odd sound as she was thinking about Helena, something that sounded like a stifled sob. She opened one eye and saw Helena collapsed over her desk, head buried in her hands, sobbing. Myka sat up suddenly and traded looks with a startled Steve, who indicated with a jut of his chin and wide eyes that Myka should go to Helena.

 

She divested herself of Steve’s heavy legs, nearly throwing him off the bed in the process, and went to Helena. She pulled Helena close so that her head was against Myka’s stomach as she sobbed. She stroked her hair and said softly, “What’s wrong, honey? It’s ok, we’re here.” By this stage Steve had kneeled on the floor next to them and put his arms around them both, stroking Helena’s back. Helena didn’t speak, just kept sobbing for what must have been ten or fifteen minutes. Steve looked Myka a few times, eyebrows raised, but Myka just shrugged her shoulders helplessly and carried on holding Helena, stroking her hair and whispering soothing nonsense to her.  Myka was struggling to keep her own composure – seeing Helena like this was disconcerting, to say the least, but something in Myka was hurting, too. This incredible woman, who had looked after her with so much compassion when she needed it, was in so much pain and Myka didn’t know how to help. After a time, Helena started to pull away from Myka’s protective grasp, and took the tissues that Steve offered her wordlessly. Her face was red, streaked with tears and snot. Myka thought she’d never looked more beautiful. Helena wiped her face and took deep breaths, not looking at either Steve or Myka, who were still stroking her hair and rubbing her back, staying close, but giving her a little space to collect herself.

 

“I’m so sorry, you two. You must think I’m insane.” She shook her head slightly, laughing at herself bitterly.

 

“No, not insane. A little witchy maybe, with the black hair and the scary red face. Ever thought of playing Elphaba?” said Steve, innocently, with a smile.

 

She punched him on the arm, softly, and snorted. She wouldn’t look at Myka.

 

Myka sat herself half on the desk, making sure to still keep contact with Helena’s skin. She stroked her shoulder softly.

 

“Do you want to talk about it, honey?” she asked, softly.

 

Helena half sobbed. “Please, don’t be so nice to me, Myka, I can’t bear it.”

 

“Maybe you are insane, Helena. If you think there would ever be a time when I wasn’t nice to you.” Her words were soft, but she had one eyebrow cocked quizzically. “Why don’t you tell us what’s happening? Since we’ve both been so forthcoming with you!” She smiled.

 

“Ok,” said Helena, “but it’s a long story, so you might want to get more comfortable.

 

Steve and Myka shared a look, and then stood up and drew Helena over to the bed to sit between them, both of them with arms around her.

 

“There was a story on the news just now about a little girl who is missing. She had dark hair and eyes. She looked like...she looked like my daughter.” Myka gasped, involuntarily.

 

Helena continued, “I had a relationship with a boy when I was 17...it resulted in a pregnancy. I was young, stupid, reckless. But I was still pregnant, and I couldn’t bring myself to abort the baby. So I had her. She was called Christina. I dropped out of stage school a few months in, and I had her. My father was furious, of course, but my brother insisted that I was looked after, and my father agreed eventually. I loved her immediately, she had my eyes. She grew up so quickly, and learned everything so quickly. But I got restless, so bored with ‘just’ being a mother, and one night when she was almost two, I went out and met up with some of my friends to have a drink. It was the first time since Christina was born that I’d gone out. Charles, my brother, was babysitting her. When I got back from my night out I was a bit tipsy, but not drunk. I was at the end of the driveway when I saw the flames and heard the sirens. There was a gas explosion. My father was there too. None of them survived. I went...I went mad, for a while. I couldn’t even grieve for my father or Charles. It was all Christina. I...they put me in a hospital for a while, so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I did try, several times. Pills, mostly. But once, a razor.” ( _Myka’s eyes closed involuntarily at this admission. The thought of Helena hurting, of Helena hurting herself – it was almost unbearable.)_ “I know they did the right thing, the doctors, but I can’t help but wish that they’d just let me go. I miss her so much. And sometimes it just...it overwhelms me.” She sniffed and took another tissue from Steve, and wiped the fresh tears off her face.

 

“So now you know.” She looked at Myka, and said softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t know how to.”

 

Myka hugged her closer and kissed her temple. “Don’t be so stupid, Wells. How long did it take me to tell you about my asshat of a dad? This is way bigger than that.” She paused, stroking Helena’s face softly with her free hand. _(God, the pain she must be in...Myka’s heart twisted in sympathy.)_

 

“I’m so sorry about your daughter. And your father and brother. I don’t know how you even lived through that. You have to be the strongest person I know.” Helena looked at her, disbelieving.

 

“Myka, did you not hear me? I was in a mental institution. I was a bloody nutter. They had to medicate me so I wouldn’t kill myself. That’s the opposite of strong!”

 

Myka looked at Steve, tilting her head in a way that said, _“You wanna jump in here?”_

He cleared his throat uncertainly, and said, “Helena, you are here. You survived all of that, and you’re here, not only in one piece, but you got a place at one of the most competitive performing arts schools in the country. You sing like a professional, and quite honestly, you’re one of the most put-together people I know. The fact that you’ve gone through all that, and come out the other side as strong as you are...well, I know I’m impressed. And kinda turned on. I think I might be turning a little heterosexual for you...” He grinned at her, squeezing her softly. She laughed, throwing her head back and flushing a little at the compliments.

 

“See?” said Myka, softly. “You’re a frickin’ legend, already, and you’re not even on Broadway yet!” She kissed Helena’s temple again, softly. Myka had never felt this way about someone before, and the way she felt after hearing Helena’s admission – it frightened her. She wanted to keep Helena safe and happy – wanted it so _badly._ She drew in a shaky breath to calm herself.

 

They sat there for a long time afterwards, all three cuddled up on the bed while Idina Menzel sang her heart out from the small television screen. When the show was over, Steve said he was going to make a move to get some sleep. If Helena was ok, that was? She nodded and smiled at him.

 

“Thank you, Steven. You’re such a good friend. I’m lucky to know you.”

 

Steve blushed a little, smiling, and said goodnight, disappearing from the small room gracefully.  Myka squeezed Helena again, smiling at her.

 

“Are you gonna be ok? Because I can stay with you, if you want.” She tried to hide her eagerness behind a mask of concern. She hadn’t slept well one night since she’d gone back to her own room.

 

Helena flushed and looked away. “Would you...would you mind, Myka? It’s been a tough day. I could use a friend.”

 

“Of course. You got any PJs?” Helena nodded, and Myka took the proffered clothes and got changed in the bathroom. The short pyjamas were a little too short on her, and she was concerned that a hint of butt cheek might be showing. But she didn’t really mind if Helena saw more of her, if she was honest with herself. And plus, she thought piously, it was her duty to try and take Helena’s mind off her heartache. She smiled as she returned to the small bedroom. Helena was sitting on the chair, having changed into a similar set of pyjamas that showed most of her incredibly beautiful legs. The sight stole Myka’s breath for a moment, Helena sitting there with her legs pulled up underneath her, skin like porcelain, clad in soft blue cotton, her head bent over the desk, tucking her dark hair behind her ears as she concentrated.  Helena looked up to see Myka staring, and frowned, confused.

 

“Are you ok, Myka?” she asked.

 

“Yeah...yes, of course, I’m fine.” Myka squeaked.

 

Helena’s eyebrow rose, but she said nothing, just nodded. And then her eyes lingered a little south of Myka’s face as she took in the sight of her legs in the short pyjamas. It was her turn to stare, it seemed. Myka smiled to herself in satisfaction. She finally managed to move and got into the bed, shuffling close to the wall.

 

“Read to me?” she asked, appealingly.

 

“How can I deny you when you look at me like that, Ms Bering?” asked Helena fondly, smirking at her in reply. She drew out an ancient looking book and started to read, her accent making the words strangely beautiful.

 

_“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched...”_

 

That night it was Myka’s turn to hold Helena tightly against her. They didn’t speak, but Helena breathed out a sigh that sounded like relief when Myka put her arms around her and kissed her temple, and they both drifted off to the best sleep either of them had had since the Christmas holidays.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some Wicked things happen. And Leena is a Bering and Wells shipper.

The three of them were even closer, after all their confessions, and they tried to work together as much as possible on projects and performances. Whatever was between Helena and Myka remained unspoken – in words, at least. As any of their friends would have told them, if asked, they communicated their feelings in every look, every touch. As they approached the end of winter, there was an announcement that they were putting on a performance of Wicked towards the end of the school year. Everyone was encouraged to have some part in the production, whether it be on or behind the stage. Myka was tempted to try out for the chorus as she had so often in the past, but something gave her the courage to audition for the two lead roles. And somehow, she was cast as Galinda/Glinda opposite Elphaba, who was of course played by Helena, much to Steve’s amusement after his earlier suggestion that Helena should try out for the part of the witch. Steve’s gorgeous tenor got him the role of Fiyero, so the three of them spent all their time together after that practising, running lines, and trying to get to grips with the mechanics of the stage production. And Myka – well, she decided that wearing a wig was a cop-out, and she dyed her hair a soft honey blonde for her role as Galinda. She thought it didn’t suit her, but one look at Helena’s stunned look when she saw her was enough to set her confidence soaring. Steve made a huge fuss about her beautiful curls being blonde now, but even he had to confess that, in his words, she looked “kinda hot”. Pete, Claudia and Abigail just stared at her the day she entered the practice room with her newly blonde curls.

 

“I hope that’s stunned silence at how awesome I look, and not horror,” she said, wryly.  They all fell over one another to assure her that she looked ‘kickass’ (Claudia), ‘hot’ (Pete) and ‘beautiful’ (Abigail). As she looked around at her small group of friends, she was struck by the contrast in how her life was a year ago – miserable, alone and abused – and how it was now. Filled with friendship, music, fun, and...possibilities. Her eyes lingered on Helena’s small form as her friend bent over gracefully to change her shoes. Myka smiled to herself and turned her mind to the task at hand.

 

The rehearsals were a blur, as were her classes for the next few months. The only parts that stood out for her were her scenes with Helena. They were supposed to hate one another at the beginning, Galinda and Elphaba. She found it really hard, though, to look at Helena and do anything but smile. The director, a small lovely woman by the name of Leena, pulled her aside after her third inadvertent smile during their first song together, “What is this feeling,” where they were supposed to be expressing their loathing for one another.

 

“Myka, your singing is awesome, and your acting in the other scenes is pitch perfect. What is it about this scene that you’re finding so hard?” She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “It’s not exactly subtle, the song is about loathing one another!”

 

Myka flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry Leena, it’s just that we’re such good friends, I can’t help but smile when she’s singing, you know? She’s amazing.” Her voice was soft and her eyes lingered on Helena, who was talking animatedly to Steve and Pete while they waited to continue the rehearsal.

 

Leena followed her eyes and looked at her carefully, before smiling at her. “I think I get it, Myka. Can I make a suggestion?” Myka nodded, and Leena leaned over to her and whispered, “Attraction can be mistaken for hatred – the energy is very similar. So why don’t you channel that instead? Don’t worry, this is just between us, ok?” Myka was speechless, her face flaming, and she just nodded in response. She took a deep breath and walked back to the small stage, thinking about things she had been suppressing since she first heard Helena sing at that Christmas service. Steve rubbed her arm softly as she returned to the stage, thinking she’d been told off and was embarrassed. She smiled at him gently, mouthing “It’s ok”, before taking her place on the far side of the stage from Helena. Leena called them all to their places, and this time the song was performed quite differently. Myka poured all of her passion, her feelings into the song, her eyes glued to Helena’s every time they faced one another, as they sang about how much they loathed one another. The first time their eyes met, Helena’s eyes were startled by whatever it was she saw in Myka’s, and her eyes blazed in response.

 

_“What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame, does it have a name?”_

 

The words were quite different in the context of whatever was between them, and the air was almost crackling as they got closer and closer. It was difficult to balance the comedy of the song with what she was feeling, but Myka felt like she was edging towards the right balance by the end of the song. Apparently she was right, as the whole room was silent when the last note faded. Then the applause was deafening. Pete was whistling, Claudia was jumping up and down, and Leena caught her eye and smiled approvingly. Myka took an embarrassed little bow, not daring to look at Helena. They did the scene four more times to get the blocking and the timing right. When they finished for the evening, Helena leaned up on her toes to whisper in Myka’s ear.

 

“Dinner at mine?” Myka nodded, swallowing convulsively.

 

They walked back slowly, Steve and Pete chattering animatedly about the scene and how funny and awesome it was. Myka and Helena were both uncharacteristically silent, smiling and nodding at the appropriate parts. When they reached the elevators in the building, Steve grabbed Pete and said, “Hey buddy, why don’t we take the stairs? Gotta keep those glutes sharp!” He dragged a confused and protesting Pete with him as the elevator doors closed. Myka saw Steve wink at her just before the doors came together.

 

She couldn’t quite make herself turn to Helena, not after showing her emotions so baldly during the rehearsal. It was necessary for the show to be good, she knew, but she was worried that she had frightened Helena with the unbridled _want_ that she felt.

 

“Myka.” Helena took her hand, turned her around, as the elevator began its ascent to their floor.

 

Myka lifted her gaze to meet Helena’s, and gasped when she saw the intensity in her dark eyes. She didn’t know how to contain this, not when Helena was looking at her like that.  “ _Leena was right,” she thought idly. ” It does look a lot like hatred.”_

The moment stretched as they watched each other. Then something broke, some wall cracked between them, and Myka was moving before she knew it, her hands in Helena’s hair, cradling her head as she kissed her furiously. And Helena - Helena was kissing her back, teeth and lips mashing together as they tried to get even closer to one another. She groaned against Myka’s lips, as Myka pulled her hair softly in her fist. Then the elevator doors dinged, and they sprang apart, not looking at one another as they both covered their lack of composure by fiddling with their nails (Myka) or adjusting clothes (Helena). Suddenly Pete and Steve burst out from the stairwell nearby, laughing and out of breath after running up the stairs. Pete was oblivious, but Steve smiled slyly at Myka as he took in their red faces and mussed hair.

 

“You guys ready for pizza?!” Pete cried, running towards Helena’s room in an effort to beat Steve to the door. Steve shrugged and ran after him, catching him after a few paces and winning their ‘race’.

 

“It seems we’re having dinner with those two,” Helena said in a shaky voice, not looking at Myka.

 

“Looks that way,” said Myka softly. “Come on.” She took Helena’s hand and pulled her up the corridor.

 

They had a fun night with the guys, playing Pictionary and drinking light beers with their pizza. After midnight though, Steve and Pete left and Helena and Myka were alone again. Helena bustled around the room, cleaning up bottles and pizza boxes. Myka helped but after a few minutes she collapsed on the bed, groaning.

 

“I am so tired! I don’t know how you’re even on your feet after the hours we’ve put in today.” She propped her head up on her hand, and watched Helena as she tidied up and wiped the desk where Pete had left a truly impressive trail of crumbs and sauce.

 

“I simply cannot stand having this amount of dirt around, Myka. I’m not obsessive compulsive or anything, but I can just imagine mice or cockroaches or whatever coming to feast on all this rubbish while I’m sleeping. The idea does not appeal to me at all.”

 

Myka smiled at her fondly.

 

“So, did you want to talk about what happened earlier?”

 

Helena looked at her, took in her inviting posture on the bed, and swallowed. Myka was thrilled at her reaction. But she was slightly less thrilled when Helena ran out of the room as if the Horsemen of the Apocalypse were after her.

 

“I’ll be right back!” she threw over her shoulder as she disappeared from the room.

 

Myka was confused, and a little worried that she had misread the signs and freaked Helena out totally by kissing her. But Helena had kissed her back, right? She wasn’t crazy?  She had plenty of time to contemplate her sanity, because Helena took over half an hour to return to the bedroom.

 

“Sorry, Myka, I was just clearing up in the bathroom. I didn’t mean to leave you here alone.” She still didn’t look Myka in the eye. Myka could feel herself deflating. Maybe she had really fucked this up...

 

“It’s okay, Helena. I didn’t mean to bother you. I should go, let you get some sleep.” She swung her legs off the bed and moved to the door. Helena still didn’t say anything.

 

“Goodnight, Helena,” she sighed. She had the door half open already when she heard a quiet, “Don’t go,” emanating from the general direction of Helena.

 

Helena was standing with her arms folded, next to the window. Her head was down, her hair masking her face. Myka let the door close, and took the few steps that brought her to Helena. She stood behind her, and whispered, “Helena, what’s wrong? I’m sorry if I freaked you out by kissing you. I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to, I promise.”

 

Her hands twitched a little. She wanted to put her arms around Helena, but resisted in case she freaked her out any more than she already had. She decided to wait. She had obviously screwed up, and she didn’t want to make it worse. So she took a deep breath and waited for Helena to speak.

 

“I’m sorry, Myka. I don’t think I’m ready for...to be more than friends. The last time I was...with someone was Marcus, and then I had Christina. It’s...a little too much for me right now. I’m sorry.” She turned to face Myka, grasping her by the arms, smoothing the sleeves of her jacket. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She looked up and met Myka’s eyes with her own dark eyes, brimming with tears.

 

Myka was crushed. Of course she was. But she was more than used to hiding her feelings. She had misread the signs – not surprising, given her lack of experience. So she smoothed her face into a smile, and reassured Helena.

 

“It’s ok. I’m sorry. I was presumptuous and I have obviously made you uncomfortable. I want to stay friends too. Will you forgive me?”

 

Helena grabbed her in a tight hug, saying, “Of course,” but it came out rather muffled, since her face was pressed so hard against Myka’s jacket. Myka hugged her back, but her heart was aching from the rejection. She pulled away after a moment and smoothed Helena’s hair back, wiping her tears away with a thumb.

 

“Ok! Now we’ve sorted that out, I am going to need to get some sleep,” she said, knowing she was being inappropriately cheery, but not knowing how else to handle this.  Rejection wasn’t a new concept to her; all of her early attempts at befriending people at her high school had been rebuffed. She was ‘that’ Myka Bering, her dad’s punchbag, and no-one wanted to get involved in all that drama, as if it was somehow contagious. She couldn’t blame them. But it was a new feeling for her here, at Juilliard, where she’d previously felt so accepted. She felt something inside her harden, somehow, become brittle. She moved to leave the room, but Helena grabbed her hand and met her eyes again.

 

“Please don’t go, Myka. Stay here tonight. I don’t want you to feel awkward with me.”

 

Myka didn’t have it in her to refuse Helena when she wore that adorable pout. Even with what had just happened. She just sighed, and gave in. “Have you got some PJs?” Helena smiled, indicating the pair that Myka had worn the last time she was here. She went to the bathroom in silence, brushing her teeth and tongue furiously to try and get rid of the memory of the taste of Helena’s mouth. She didn’t want to get used to it. She was shocked again at her reflection with its blonde curls – she was starting to like it, a little. Or at least the reaction it provoked. But that led her thoughts to what happened after, and she sighed again, changed into the short PJs, and went back to Helena’s room. She jumped into the bed and got under the covers, sighing again as Helena slid in beside her. She didn’t know how to act after...everything, so she stayed still, rigid until Helena turned to her, snuggling herself in to Myka’s shoulder and putting her arm across her stomach. Myka looked at her for a moment, and then pulled her close for a second to kiss her temple, before falling asleep with her face lost in Helena’s mane of sleek, dark hair. Helena stayed awake for a long time, stroking Myka’s hair as had become her habit in these now too-intimate sleepovers. Myka might have felt better had she seen the conflicted expression Helena wore on her usually unreadable face.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Rehearsals continued alongside exhausting dance, acting and singing classes. Myka felt like she was stumbling through life during those weeks. The only bright spot was her rehearsals with Helena. She didn’t have to pretend not to like Helena, not to be attracted to her. She funnelled the attraction into manufactured hatred (as Leena had suggested) during the beginning scenes of the show, and her other feelings (she didn’t dare call them love, not even to herself) into the affection between Glinda and Elphaba. She had acted in more than one musical in high school, despite her lack of popularity, but she knew that her performance was reaching new heights as she worked opposite Helena. When they came to rehearse ‘For Good’, she knew she was going to struggle to stay composed, but somehow she managed to get through the words that somehow described their relationship – whatever it was – so well.

 

_“I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason..._

_Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun..._

_Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”_

When the last note faded, the room was entirely silent, all eyes on her and Helena. And Helena’s eyes were on her, brimming with tears. And she had that...that _fucking_ look in her eyes. Like the day Myka kissed her. Myka suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore. She turned on her heel and walked out of the room before tears overtook her. Once she was out of sight, she ran out of there like all the armies of hell were on her heels. She didn’t even look where she was going, just running, running from everything. Her father’s fists, her mother’s indifference, Helena’s rejection. Things had changed so fast. Her mind was a complete blank, her heart hammering in her chest, her eyes blurred. She stopped when she ran out of breath. She was surprised to find herself in Central Park, near the Turtle Pond. It was getting pretty dark and she knew she shouldn’t be there alone, but as Phoebe Buffay might say, she didn’t appear to give even a tiny rat’s ass about that at this point. She found a convenient wall to sit on and put her head in her hands, hardly able to believe how much things had changed in her life. She didn’t even have a home to go back to, and here she was, pining over a _girl_ , which was a big enough mindfuck on its own, and now she’d made a huge scene in front of about a million people when she should have been concentrating on learning and perfecting her craft. Which was why she was here in the first place. She groaned, quietly, and then lifted her head to make sure no-one was nearby. She almost hoped someone would try to mug her – she would at least have an excuse to take her frustrations out on someone else. But alas, she remained un-mugged.

 

She knew she would have to go back and face the music, but she was hoping that it could wait until tomorrow. She sat there for a while longer, looking at the black water of the Turtle Pond glistening in the twilight. Eventually she made her way back to the campus, her head down and hands in her pockets as she tried to clear the mess of emotions she was feeling. She got in the elevator of her building and was getting her keys out as the door opened, when she was attacked by what felt like 18 people, hugging her practically to death. They were all talking at once and she couldn’t hear anything, let alone work out what was going on and who she was being accosted by.

 

“Whoa, guys, let her breathe!” Myka was relieved to see that Steve was in the midst of a pile of arms and legs that belonged to Claudia, Pete, Abigail, Leena...and Helena.

 

“What’s going on, you guys?” Myka asked, puzzled and a little sulky, truth be told.

 

“We were worried, Mykes! You ran out of there like a bat out of hell, man! We thought you were sick or something, and then no-one could find you!” This was Pete.

 

“I called you like, a hundred times! Don’t you answer your phone? You could have been murdered or something, this is New York! You can’t just do that, Myka!” Claudia practically shouted at her.

 

Myka held her hands up defensively, not knowing how to deal with this onslaught. When she looked around at these people – her _friends_ \- it hit her that they were all upset because they cared about her, and she came undone and started to sob. Steve caught her in a tight hug, and she could hear him telling the others to give her some space while he guided her to her room and made her sit on the bed, holding her until she calmed down.

 

“Is it Helena?” he asked simply, when the tears had dried a little.

 

She nodded, mutely. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know. Steve, my life is...unrecognisable. I don’t even know where I’m going to live during the summer. I have no home! And then she came along, and I _swear_ she kissed me back, and then she said she didn’t want me. I don’t think I have the life experience to process all this right now. And then we sang that fucking song, and she looked at me like...like she does. I just had to get out of there. And now I’ve made a huge idiot out of myself, and they’re probably going to get someone else to replace me in the show, and it’s all my own fault.” She swiped a hand across her red eyes, tiredly. “I just don’t know what to do, Steve. I fucked it all up.”

 

He coughed, nervously, before saying, “Did you kiss her in the elevator?” When she nodded, he smiled at her. “I knew it! Believe me, Myka, whatever is going on with Helena, it’s not that she doesn’t want you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I think that she just needs some time to figure herself out. If you think your life has changed in the last year, just imagine being her! She’s planning to study in England, but she gets pregnant, then her entire family, baby and all, is killed. It’s amazing that she’s as together as she is. Just give her some time, babe. She won’t be able to resist you for long. Not when you’re singing to her the way you do. Hell, _I_ want to sleep with you when you sing.” He hugged her tighter, and she laughed, relaxing.

 

“Now, why don’t we go and say goodnight to everyone and you can apologise for going crazy and running away like the beautiful lesbian gazelle you are?” He stands up, gesturing for her to follow him.

 

She smiles and said, “Ok, but I’m not a lesbian, alright? Right now, I’m just...Helena-sexual.” He giggled at that and then dragged her out into the corridor.

 

She faced her friends with a sheepish grin on her face. “I’m really sorry, you guys. I guess I freaked out a little there, huh?” They all laughed with her, smiling as she looked round at them. She gave them each a hug, and thanked them for worrying about her.

 

“I’m gonna go get some sleep – clearly I need it...” she said, shrugging in self-deprecation.

 

“Could I have a quick word before you do?” Of course, it was Helena. The rest of the group melted away, sensing the sudden tension in the air as Myka stiffened. Steve gave her a thumbs up as he disappeared with the rest of the guys into the stairwell.

 

Myka leaned against the wall, hands in her pockets as she waited for Helena to speak. She knew she was kind of being an asshole, but she didn’t understand this woman and her hot and cold behaviour.

 

Helena looked at her uncertainly. “I just wanted to check you were ok. I hope I didn’t have anything to do with you feeling like you had to run away.” She flushed a little, running her fingers through her hair.

 

“Honestly, Helena, I guess I was just a little overwhelmed. A lot has changed for me in the last few months, and I guess it just caught up with me. It wasn’t your fault. I guess I just need to deal with things a little better. I’m sorry if I worried you.” Myka sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing the back of her neck tiredly.

 

“Ok. I’m glad you’re back safe.” Helena didn’t seem to know what else to say. And Myka wasn’t really in the mood to indulge her.

 

“Sure. Well, I’m gonna get to bed. The more sleep I get, the less chance there is of another meltdown, huh?!” She laughed, but there wasn’t much humour in the sound. She turned to open her door, and was surprised to feel a firm body holding her tightly for a few seconds. She turned just in time to see Helena disappearing round the corner. _“Typical,”_ she thought to herself. She sighed again and went into her room and spent a few hours trying to sleep before she gave up and started reading a book. It was 4am when she finally felt tired enough to sleep. Her alarm went off at 7.30 and she groaned so loudly that the girl in the next room shouted at her to shut up because ‘some people were trying to sleep’. And so began another day in the confusing life of Myka Bering.


	7. Chapter 7

After her mini-meltdown, her friends and the whole crew for the show were extremely solicitous of Myka’s feelings. It made her feel a little warm and fuzzy, but also really pissed her off, because she was trying to forget the whole thing. But she got on with it as best she could, working hard and conscientiously as always. Leena was full of praise for her and Helena’s performances, and for her light comedic touch in particular. That part of it was exhilarating – comedy wasn’t really her thing but from the genuine laughter coming from the crew it seemed like she was doing justice to the role. It was a little difficult to keep from getting a big head, but she figured she had been treated so badly in the past that it would take a while before the balance shifted enough that she would think too much of herself. She did what she did best, and pushed her feelings down and channelled all her energy into work. She distanced herself from the group a little, spending her evenings on her own once rehearsals were over. She tried to avoid Helena wherever possible, as pleasantly as she could. She didn’t understand her, not one bit, and she didn’t want to deal with it while her head was whirling with so many other things. She could see the hurt in Helena’s eyes, but she didn’t know how to make it better without hurting herself more. The rehearsals, looking at Helena with pretended hatred or affection while she looked back with those dark eyes that said so much while simultaneously saying nothing at all – it was a special kind of torture. When they were face to face, singing their hearts out, harmonising, it was like everything was ok with the world again. The music surrounded them and made them into something more than they were as separate people. But it was so hard to go from that intimacy to the pain of knowing that Helena didn’t want her. She realised it was selfish to withdraw from the other girl so much when they had been so close, but she didn’t know how the hell else to deal with it all.

 

It was while she was having one of these internal debates that Pete came to talk to her. They’d started talking a little when he’d confided in her that he had a thing for one of the dancers, a tall blonde called Amanda. Myka had to agree that the woman was stunning. She encouraged him to go for it, and since then they’d had the odd meal together on their own. She found him to be a lot different than she would have expected. He was a great big idiot most of the time, but there was a brain under there, a sharp mind. They somehow complemented each other, his goofiness with her seriousness, his perceptive nature with her analytical one. He came over to her as she was drinking some cold water from the fountain in the corridor outside the rehearsal room, and punched her gently on the arm. It had become their signature greeting.

 

“So, Bering, what’s up with you and HG Wells in there?” He lifted an eyebrow and gestured towards the rehearsal room with a thumb.

 

“Nothing, Pete. What do you mean?”

 

He looked at her sceptically. “Mykes, I am no expert on English ladies, but that particular lady is cuckoo for you. And you’re giving her the cold shoulder. What’s up with that?” She huffed a little and said, “I am categorically _not_ giving her the cold shoulder. I am being totally friendly as usual, I’m just not...giving everything away all the time like I was. Ok?”

 

Pete raised his hands defensively. “Hey, Mykes, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to be happy, and Helena too. You are both awesome and I care about you. But you are definitely giving that girl the _lukewarm_ shoulder at the very least, and I don’t get why. You were so close after that first rehearsal, and then something changed. What happened?” He peered at her with such a sweet concern on his face that she sighed and gave in.

 

“Ok. So, what happened was that I kissed her. In the elevator that night when Steve made you take the stairs?” Pete nodded, whistling a little as he took this in. “So I kissed her, and she kissed me back, and it was really...God, I don’t know what it was. It was hot, because of course it was, but it felt...” She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and pushing her hands through her tangled curls.

 

“It felt deeper than just a kiss, Pete. It _did_ something to me. And then, we jumped apart because the elevator was opening, and because you and Steve were there, and then later...She told me she wasn’t ready for anything, because of some stuff from her past that I can’t tell you about. And that would’ve been fine, only she asked me to stay, and she was wrapped around me all night. I have been so confused since then, Pete. She is beautiful, and honestly I think I fell for her almost straight away. But this hot and cold crap...I can’t wrap my brain around it. And some stuff happened to me over the holidays too, nothing to do with her, but it’s a lot to take in all by itself. So I guess I’m protecting myself for now. Do you think that makes me a bad person?” She looked at him, appealing, but almost expecting him to say yes.

 

He laughed. “You couldn’t be a bad person if you tried, Mykes. If you weren’t so obviously otherwise inclined, I would’ve been all over you like a rash. Or, you know, something a bit sexier than a rash. But no, you’re not a bad person. I can understand how this would’ve been confusing for you. And I’m sure the rehearsals aren’t helping right now either. I’m sorry, babe. I hope she comes round and realises what an opportunity she has here with you. You two could really be something.” He pulled her into a bear hug, and he was gross and sweaty so she ended up punching him really hard on the arm to get him to let her go. They returned to the rehearsal room, where Myka spent the whole time during “Defying Gravity” trying not to gape at how amazing Helena was as Elphaba. _“At least she’ll be painted green when we do the actual performances,” she consoled herself._ Yeah, thinking about painting Helena’s body would really help. She groaned to herself, softly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little bit serious. Warning for sexual assault and physical abuse.

Spring had long since sprung, and now summer was starting to spring, too. The city was becoming uncomfortably warm, and rehearsals were becoming a little – fraught, as people reacted to the heat in the non-air conditioned room. Tempers were lost, crew members and chorus members fought about who was supposed to man the spotlight, or who was upstaging who. Helena and Myka did not fight, however. When Helena was on stage, she was all fire and passion. But offstage, she might as well have been an ice statue. Myka was pleasant, but distant. They didn’t eat together or spend any non-school related time in each other’s company. Myka ached from missing her, but she felt like it was necessary for her to stay sane. She had made some tentative plans with Steve and Claudia to get an apartment together when the school year ended, so that took some of the worry about her future away. But she still couldn’t figure out Helena. She could understand her not being ready for a relationship, and she didn’t blame her for that at all, given her past. She just didn’t understand Helena’s constant scrutiny of her, or why their hands or hips or legs brushed so often when they were onstage. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Myka knew she could be clumsy but she was hyper aware when Helena was near, and always tried to give Helena space, was really careful about that, given how humiliated she still was about kissing her. It was all very confusing. So much so that when they had a break from rehearsals, and there was a party in one of the other dorm rooms, and everyone was going, Myka went, and somehow ended up drinking a lot more than she usually did, on an empty stomach. She was full of false confidence from the beer and scotch she’d drunk, and a guy from the chorus had asked her to dance. Walter Sykes was blond and good-looking, she supposed, so she danced with him for a while, not really noticing how much he was grabbing at her because she was so numb from the alcohol. He pressed another drink into her hands and she drank it in one go, continuing to dance and relishing not thinking at all. It wasn’t long after that when the room started to look like it was underwater, and she drifted off into a pleasant sleep. That should have alarmed her, but it didn’t. She could distantly feel arms around her, tugging her somewhere, and roughly touching parts of her that she would never normally allow, but she was too far gone to do anything about it. She didn’t hear the sounds of fists hitting flesh, shouting, and cries of pain. She didn’t feel the strong, thin arms that lifted her gently, cradling her, and carried her to a familiar bed where she was finally safe.

 

She woke up with her eyes glued closed, in a dark room that smelled and felt familiar. There was someone next to her, arms around her with fingers laced in between her own.  A kiss in her hair.

 

“Helena?” she asked, groggily.

 

“Yes, it’s me.” Her voice was cool, soft. Myka was grateful because her head was so painful that her own voice had hurt her ears.

 

“How did I get here? I don’t remember.” Her voice came out weak and confused. How the hell _did_ she get here?

 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Her voice was clipped, and fairly smouldered with anger.

 

Myka groaned. “Shit, Helena, what the hell did I do? Did I do something to upset you? I’m so sorry.” “ _Fuck. I hope I didn’t kiss her again.”_

“No, Myka.” Her voice had softened, and Myka could feel her press a kiss into her hair again. “ _You_ didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You were just a little drunk. But Walter Sykes did. Do you remember dancing with him?” Myka nodded, peeling her eyelids open and turning to look at Helena, whose eyes were dark and her jaw jutting out as she tried to control her anger.

 

“Well, Myka, it appears that he ‘roofied’ you with the intention of assaulting you. And assault you he did, until Pete, Steve and I got there. He was...well, I imagine you probably don’t want to know what he was trying to do. But we stopped him. Steve...I’ve never seen him like that. I think between us we might have broken some bones. But he deserved it, the _bastard!_ ”

 

The last word came out in a hiss, her teeth ground together.

 

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get there sooner. I saw you dancing, and ...I thought you were going with him willingly, but then Claudia spoke to Pete and told him she’d heard Walter boasting about his stash and how he was going to use it to get a hot chick into bed, and a few minutes later her was dancing with you, we put two and two together and went to find you.”

 

Myka was stunned. She felt sick, sicker than she’d ever felt, and she suddenly had to get up and run to the door to throw up in the wastepaper bin. She retched until there was nothing left in her stomach, kneeling on the floor. Helena was holding her hair back and rubbing her back, making soothing noises. When she had stopped throwing up, Helena led her to the bathroom, emptying the bin into the toilet and cleaning it, then she sat Myka down on the edge of the bath and washed her face with a wet cloth. She handed her a toothbrush and toothpaste wordlessly, always there, always ensuring that she was touching Myka’s arm lightly, so that she didn’t feel alone. For once, Myka welcomed the constant contact that was usually so confusing. She was horrified by what Walter Sykes had done, and didn’t have the words to express it. It wouldn’t sink in. She was just really grateful that she didn’t remember.

 

“Are you ok?” Helena asked, softly.

 

“Uh, not really, but yes, I suppose I’m ok. I think this might take a while to sink in. I think I owe you and the guys my thanks. I could’ve been...” she trailed off, not wanting to say the word, or even think it.

 

Helena’s face was thunderous. “I could have killed him, you know. Pete had to pull me away. I think I did some real damage. Steve spoke to the police last night, but they will want to talk to us both this morning. I hope that’s ok.”

 

“I guess it needs to be done.” Myka sighed, her eyes far away. Then a thought struck her.

 

“You’re not going to get in trouble, are you? You said Steve had to pull you away. Do you think Sykes will try to sue you for assault?”

 

“He can try, Myka. I will take him to court, I will describe what he was doing to my friend, and how I snapped. I can afford the best lawyers. He will lose.” She spoke with utter confidence. Myka breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“I couldn’t bear it if you ended up in trouble because of this. Because...because you saved me. I...”

 

They were interrupted by a knock at the outer door. They made their way out, Helena holding on to Myka’s arm with one soft hand. It was Steve and Pete. They both looked at Myka with tears in their eyes, and suddenly they were all in a giant, four-way bear hug. Both the guys were crying, and Myka realised that she was too.

 

“Thank you. Thank you...” She kept repeating it, just so grateful that she had friends like these who would look out for her. No-one in Colorado Springs would have done a damn thing if someone had tried to hurt her. They never had when her dad did.

 

It took a while for them to regain their composure, but eventually they made their way into Helena’s room, draping themselves over various surfaces and eating popcorn and peanut butter cups that the guys had brought with them. After an hour or so, the police came and Helena and Myka both gave their side of the story to the thankfully sympathetic officers. When they left, they went to get subs for lunch. They sat together outside for a while, watching the world go by, just chatting about inconsequential things. Eventually they returned to Helena’s room, and watched a movie. Myka slept through most of it – some violent sci-fi thing that Pete wanted to watch. When the movie was finished, Helena put some music on softly in the background.

 

“You know,” Myka said thoughtfully, examining her fingernails, “when I was at home in Colorado Springs, my dad used to hit me. The first time he did real damage – he broke my left collarbone. And then he did it again a few months later. Knocked me to the floor and stamped on it, this time.” Stunned silence greeted the statement. She carried on without looking up. “The first time, he wouldn’t let my mom take me to hospital. So I carried on, went to school. I couldn’t move my arm much, it was just kind of hanging there, but I’m right handed, so I just kept going. One of the teachers noticed and sent me to the nurse, who sent me to the hospital. They called a social worker, eventually, when I couldn’t lie about walking into a door any more. They saw the other bruises, they knew it wasn’t an isolated incident. So a few days later, Child Protective Services called by. They spoke to my dad, and they spoke to my mom, and they spoke to me. But I couldn’t say anything with him standing there looking at me. So I said I fell down, that I was clumsy – the usual stuff. So the second time he did it, nobody said anything. It took two weeks before he would let my mom take me to hospital, and then it was only because I couldn’t lift the boxes in the bookstore anymore. We had to go to a different hospital this time so they wouldn’t know about it happening before. They had to break it and re-set it. My arm is still a little numb some days.” She paused for a moment and looked at each of them in turn, taking in their stunned and horrified expressions. “So when I say that I appreciate what you’ve done for me, the fact that you helped me when someone was hurting me – I hope that you know how much it means. I love you...all of you.” Her eyes lingered on Helena’s, and after a moment Pete cleared his throat and squeaked, “We love you too, Mykes.” Steve nodded, said “Yes, we love you, hon. We will always protect you.” And Helena reached forward and captured her hands, looking at her sternly, and repeated, “Always.”

 

Myka felt safe for the first time in her life. Here, with these guys, and with Claudia and Abigail, and even some of the others like Leena, she felt safe and happy for the first time she could remember. Even with things being so strange with Helena, she felt like she was home. She started to drift off to sleep with her head on Steve’s shoulder and her legs swung over Pete’s, Steve’s hand rubbing soft circles on her back. The last thing she saw before she nodded off was Helena, a soft smile on her face as she watched Myka closely. Steve and Pete left a while later, and she vaguely felt herself be lifted into the soft bed, her shoes being unlaced gently. Shortly after, Helena climbed in beside her and put her arms around her, pulling her close. She wriggled closer to Helena, kissed her absently on the forehead, and buried her head in her soft hair. She sighed in satisfaction, breathing her in, and drifted off.

 

The next morning, they were in the same position, as close as they could get without climbing into one another’s skin. Their foreheads were touching, and Myka’s arm (which was rather numb) was under Helena’s neck. Her other arm was wrapped tightly around Helena’s waist, and their bodies were touching from top to toe. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but as Myka watched Helena’s eyelids flutter as she woke, she thought she had never been happier.

 

“Good morning,” she said, softly.

 

“Good morning yourself,” said Helena, smiling at her in _that_ way, the way that made Myka’s heart pound and her palms sweat. She smiled back, and gently kissed Helena’s forehead.

 

Helena frowned a little. Myka started to pull back, thinking she had made another mistake, but Helena held her close, squeezed her a little.

 

“I missed you.” She looked at Myka from under lowered lashes, biting her lip slightly, as if making a confession.

 

Myka smiled in relief. “I missed you too.” She had missed this woman, had missed whatever _this_ was, this weird intimacy that they had going on. She held Helena a little tighter, not wanting to let go for a little while. It had been a strange few weeks, and while she knew what had happened to her was fairly horrific, she was glad that she didn’t remember what Sykes had tried to do to her, and that all of it had somehow led her to this moment, holding Helena, drinking in the scent of her. Helena snuggled closer, until they physically couldn’t _get_ any closer, and she ran one hand through Myka’s unruly curls, scratching her scalp softly. Myka suppressed a groan. It felt so good, and she thought that if Helena had any idea what she was doing, she would stop, because she didn’t want anything from Myka – not that way, anyway. So Myka bit her lip and endured the hellish ecstasy that she felt at Helena’s touch. Her skin was tingling, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She sighed a little, involuntarily, as she enjoyed the sensation. Helena chuckled, a low and somehow really _dirty_ noise. Myka shivered. She said, “That’s not fair...how can you sound like that first thing in the morning?”

 

Helena drew back a little, all innocent, and said, “Like what, Ms Bering?”

 

Myka raised an eyebrow at her, “You know how you sound, Ms Wells...”

 

Helena grinned. Then she stretched a little, giving Myka an enticing view of her lower belly as her t-shirt rode up.

 

“As much as I would truly enjoy spending the entire day right here, I believe we have rehearsals in a little less than two hours. So perhaps we should get ready?” She cocked an eyebrow at Myka.

 

Myka sighed. “I guess.” She was reluctant to leave here, this little haven. But then she stretched, too. She was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. She saw Helena redden as her own stomach was exposed for a moment, and smiled to herself. Maybe this wasn’t entirely one-sided.

 

They showered in the adjacent bathrooms in the suite, Myka trying not to think about Helena being only a few feet away, naked, with only a thin wall between them. She dressed in some of the clothes that she had left here, somehow, over time, and they walked arm in arm to the coffee cart downstairs. They got croissants and she got coffee – Helena had tea. It was somehow cosy and domestic, and Myka couldn’t keep a soft smile off her face.  She decided in that moment that she would take whatever she could have with this woman – be it friendship, love or anything in between. They had a few years here together, and there was plenty of time to define it – or not. At least they had this, now. She smiled again, and they walked on to the rehearsal room, to another day of pretending to loathe and then love one another.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times ensue

The week of the performances arrived, and the shows were exhausting, but also incredibly exhilarating. The first four nights had been busy, but the last was sold out. They were in the Peter Jay Sharp Theater, the largest at the school, and the place was humming even before the curtain went up. She could feel the difference in everyone’s performance, in her own, as the audience responded to every joke, to every tender moment, to the point where there was loud sniffling to be heard as the last notes of “For Good” faded. Myka sang her heart out, and Helena responded, belting out her lines with even more passion than before. It was magical, there was no other word for it. After the last bows, everyone went back to the rehearsal room for the cast party. Everyone was congratulating them, grasping hands, smiling until their faces hurt. But Helena didn’t once leave Myka’s side, even when a pretty famous Broadway producer asked to speak to her. She just asked for his card, smiling, and to Leena’s obvious surprise, he complied, asking Helena to contact him as soon as possible.  After a few drinks, Helena leaned over and whispered in Myka’s ear.

 

“Dance with me?”

 

Claudia had cleared a space in the middle of the room that was serving as a dance floor for those who wanted to let off some steam. Myka nodded mutely, her mouth dry, and Helena drew her across the room, holding her wrists. They danced to some crappy dance tune which suggested they take off all their clothes. Helena made Myka blush by waggling her eyebrows suggestively at the chorus. And by the way she danced, sinuous but joyful, somehow. Then the music changed to a slow tune which Myka recognised. “Iris,” by the Goo Goo Dolls. It was a beautiful song, one of her all-time favourites. Myka flushed again, and noticed Claudia fiddling with an iPod near the sound desk. She caught Myka’s eye and grinned, with her thumbs up. Myka laughed a little, her breath touching Helena’s ear as they swayed (sometimes almost waltzing, depending on the time signature, which was rather changeable in this track), to the music. Helena pulled her closer, her head on Myka’s shoulder, lips almost touching her neck. Myka’s hands were at her waist, and Helena was sneaking a hand under Myka’s shirt. The feel of her hand grazing Myka’s bare skin made her jump, but she just took a deep breath and carried on holding Helena close. She had decided to enjoy the time they had together, whatever it entailed, and if Helena wanted to tease her, she would just roll with it. She tried not to think about anything beyond the music and the way Helena felt against her. The way her body moved to the music. The smell of her hair filled Myka’s lungs. Helena tilted her head back to look at Myka, and even with the small smudges of green makeup that still marked her face here and there, she was stunning. Myka couldn’t help herself. She kissed her on the lips, softly, and whispered in her ear, “You’re beautiful.” Helena’s eyes widened, and her face flushed beautifully as she looked at Myka. Myka’s heart stuttered painfully in her chest. Then Helena lifted her hands to Myka’s face, tangled her fingers in her hair, and kissed her. Myka was lost in Helena, the taste of her mouth, her tongue, and there was a roaring in her ears. Helena was kissing her. Was it possible to die from a kiss? She suddenly realised that the roaring sound was cheering from the people around them, and a wolf whistle made them both jump. Myka’s face was crimson, and her smile foolish as she looked around at her friends, all of whom were applauding. Helena bowed mockingly at their friends, smirking. Then she stretched up on her toes and whispered in Myka’s ear, “Time to go, darling.” Myka reddened, for only the hundredth time that night, and allowed Helena to draw her slowly from the room, accompanied by more wolf whistles and cheers. Myka’s face was on fire, but Helena was smirking at her reaction. They made it to Helena’s room in record time, running most of the way, hand in hand.

 

When they reached Helena’s room, Myka collapsed on the bed, laughing, out of breath, and just plain overwhelmed. Her laughter died in her throat as Helena closed the door and turned, eyes blazing, and advanced on her, slowly. Her hands were at her own shirt buttons, undoing them as she stalked across the room to Myka. Her gaze was serious, but she had a small smirk on her face. Myka couldn’t think about anything except Helena. This woman, so strong, confident and sexy, was a mass of contradictions. She was so vulnerable sometimes too, and so needy, greedy for Myka’s touch. She was so hard to understand. But Myka was addicted, and as Helena approached her, she bit her lip, hard, to keep herself from throwing herself at the woman like some lunatic.

 

Helena pushed Myka back onto the bed, straddling her hips, and leaned down to kiss her softly, her shirt half undone, offering a glimpse of what was underneath.  Myka kissed back fervently, and slid her hands into Helena’s hair, allowing herself to enjoy the sensations she normally suppressed when Helena was nearby. Her hair was cool against Myka’s fingers, soft, in contrast to her lips which were anything but cool. Myka pulled back a little, suddenly, and held Helena back with her hands on either side of her face.

 

“Are you sure about this, Hel? I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to lose you.” She was really scared, and it showed on her face.

 

Helena was smiling. She ran her thumb across Myka’s mouth, her ear, her neck. Myka couldn’t breathe.

 

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life, Myka Bering. Please...” Her eyes were dark, the pupils dilated, and she was biting her bottom lip. Myka was powerless to resist. And she really didn’t want to. Helena fell on her, kissing her, biting Myka’s bottom lip, while her fingers pulled at Myka’s hair, raising goosebumps as they moved to her neck, scratching lightly. Myka’s hands were in Helena’s mane of black hair, pulling, teasing, and when she felt Helena’s tongue slide its way into her mouth, she groaned. Helena laughed, kissing her more deeply until she was dizzy before moving her mouth to Myka’s neck, biting and teasing her into insensibility. Myka loved her like this, confident and with a sly smirk on her face. She was so different from the quiet girl she’d been during the holidays, when she’d taken care of Myka, but the contrast was thrilling, almost like how she was on stage. After a particularly sharp nip to her earlobe, Myka moaned, pulling Helena closer, and she began to kiss this infuriating, confusing woman that she was so ridiculously in love with, first gently, and then with more force, using her tongue and teeth, taking charge of Helena and doing her best to wipe the smugness off her face. After a long, breathless moment, she pulled away and it was her turn to smirk at Helena’s face, which was flushed. Her full lips were reddened from the force of Myka’s kisses, her hair in disarray.

 

“Turnabout is fair play, Ms Wells...”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Myka woke early with Helena wrapped around her, their bodies pressed together like they had been on so many other mornings. Except this time, there were fewer clothes involved. None, in fact. Myka blushed, one hand covering her mouth as she remembered the night before. What they had done. How it had _felt._ She was overwhelmed, smiling and a little tearful. She looked at Helena’s face as she slept, examining her skin, her eyelashes, her lips. She was so beautiful, so incredible. And she was here, with Myka. For a girl from Colorado who had been abused and ignored for most of her life, this was _big_. Terrifying, really, given that Helena had rejected her only recently. Myka didn’t remember ever being so happy and so frightened before in her life. She couldn’t resist kissing Helena softly on her slightly pouting lips, and moved her lips to her ears, her jaw, her neck. Helena moaned, grumbling at being woken up, but Myka grinned to herself and kept going, waking up her raven-haired lover with small touches and kisses in places that she had particularly enjoyed discovering the night before. Suddenly she found herself pinned to the bed by an irritated Helena, who had captured Myka’s wrists in one hand and was straddling her with a gorgeous pout that Myka wanted to kiss.

 

“You vile, evil woman - you woke me. Why would you do that?” She was half joking, half serious. Myka grinned at her.

 

“Not a morning person, honey?” She raised an eyebrow at Helena, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the look on her face.

 

“No, I’m not a morning person when _somebody_ has kept me up all night...” She tightened her grip on Myka’s wrists, beginning to smile a little. Myka squirmed a little underneath her hips, and when she saw how the movement made Helena’s expression change, did it again. She had learned a lot the night before, and she had an eidetic memory. She wasn’t above teasing if it got her what she wanted. It was a few (rather sweaty) hours later when they woke up for the second time.

 

Helena was watching her sleep. Myka could feel eyes on her as soon as she woke. She gingerly opened her right eye, and there she was, this woman who had changed Myka’s life. Her hair was mussed, her face still smudged here and there with green paint. She was breathtaking.

 

Myka smiled. “What are you looking at, Wells?”

 

“Just a vision of loveliness. Just a woman who looks far more beautiful than she should after a night of wanton, uninhibited sex.” She smirked.

 

“You are the vision, Helena. I am just a curly haired, gangly nerd from Colorado.” She sighed, running a finger across Helena’s brow and then her cheek. “I have _no_ idea why you’re here with me. None.”

 

Helena looked at her, quizzically for a moment, and then a little sad. “You are a fascinating creature, Myka Bering. I have said it before, and I am quite sure I’ll say it again. You have no idea how beautiful, how alluring, how special you really are. I imagine it’s because of your upbringing, such as it was.” A shadow crosses her face. “But you are wonderful. Talented, kind, caring. And exceptionally, enticingly beautiful. Your eyes, that ridiculously sexy hair – I have no idea how I resisted you for as long as I did.” Myka was gasping a little by this stage, because Helena had been punctuating each compliment with a kiss on Myka’s neck, or her ear, or her jaw.  She didn’t believe Helena, of course – wasn’t, in fact, _capable_ of believing anyone who complimented her, not really. But she was getting closer to believing her with each kiss, every time she saw _that_ look in Helena’s eyes. She had never been happier.

 

“I’ve never felt like this before, Helena. Which is not surprising, I suppose, since I’ve never been with anyone before. But somehow this feels...like _more_ than other people have. Like it’s deeper. I’m not trying to scare you, I just want you to know.” She looked at Helena carefully, scared of another rejection, if she was being honest about it. She was surprised to see that Helena’s eyes were filled with tears, a soft blush colouring her face.

 

She kissed Helena softly, wiping away her tears, all the while muttering to herself, “Great job, Bering, make the woman of your dreams so uncomfortable that she cries...awesome effort as always.”

 

“Oh, shut up Myka, for God’s sake.” Helena tilted Myka’s head back with one hand, kissing her thoroughly and leaving them both breathless for long moments. She smiled again, gently, but with a little twist of her lips that said she was irritated.

 

“You are infuriating, you know. I was touched by what you said, not uncomfortable. Maybe you are just a nerdy idiot from Colorado after all.” She sighed. “I have never felt like this either, Myka. I had a few boyfriends at school, before Marcus, and then with him I thought there was something special – at least until he found out I was pregnant. But this – this is something else entirely. It’s unfathomable to me that I could even feel this way after what happened to Christina. I know that I deliberately closed myself off. Perhaps it was the only way I could cope, I don’t know.” She brushed her hair back with long fingers, looking into the distance.

 

“Whatever this is, between you and I – you are not the only one to be confounded by it, believe me. I don’t know whether to call it love or not, and I certainly don’t want to scare you off by saying it, but it is different to anything I’ve felt before. And I want to find out, with you, what it is. So stop being so bloody frightened. I am here, with you, because I choose to be. I was frightened of this, before, but somehow it has always been inevitable. Since I saw you at the carol service, the way you looked at me while I sang. And even before that, since I first heard you sing. Did you know about that?” Myka shook her head, struck mute by Helena’s words.

 

“I was passing by the rehearsal rooms one morning on my way to my room. It wasn’t long after the beginning of the first semester. And I heard Mrs Calder singing a passage from Andrew Lloyd Weber’s “Pie Jesu”. I stopped for a moment, because her voice is – well, you know, she teaches you too. And I love that piece of music. And then I heard you. I didn’t know it was you, not at first, but although your singing voice is so different from your speaking voice, I suddenly somehow knew it was you. Your voice, your heart was in the words. And since then, Myka, I have been lost. You make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, I get goosebumps, and I swear my heart has stopped countless times when you sing. You are so beautiful. So you’re not in this alone. Believe me.” And Helena looked at her, her heart in her eyes, and somehow Myka did believe her. And she was terrified.  

 

They made love again, and again, until they were finally driven out of bed by hunger. They went out to the Tavern on the Green in Central Park, both sitting on one side of the table, holding hands the whole time. Helena paid, of course – she would never let Myka pay for anything, not when she had ‘such a ridiculous sum of money sitting around, not being used’. It made Myka uncomfortable, normally, as it had when Helena had presented her with a new phone, but this time it just made her feel warm, cared for. That night there was no question of Myka going back to her own room. She couldn’t have left Helena’s side if she tried. That night when Helena kissed her jawline and stroked her hair, she didn’t freeze, she just enjoyed the sensation, and she enjoyed the _freedom_ of enjoying the feeling.


	11. Chapter 11

Thus began the next portion of Myka’s life. Without a doubt, she was happier than she had ever been before. The semester was over soon after the performance of Wicked. It was too soon for Myka. She had loved every minute of it. She moved in with Claudia, Steve and Pete during the summer. They got a small apartment in Queens which they all had to work hard to keep. Myka worked in a coffee shop, the boys were both working in a hotel, and Claudia was working in a music shop, selling guitars. Steve told Myka that Claudia was causing a bit of jealousy among the local hipster musician community – male and female – who were all buying expensive guitars and accessories to impress her. Steve thought it was hilarious. Claudia thought it was annoying. Myka thought it was adorable. But at that point, she was so happy that everything was adorable, everything was wonderful. But mainly she thought that Helena was adorable. At the beginning of the summer Helena had rented a modern apartment quite close to Juilliard. She intended to stay there, she said, until the course was complete. When she moved in, the whole gang helped, and they’d had a riotous night of pizza and beer and silliness. When the rest of them had left, Myka and Helena were left on the huge comfy couch together, Helena’s head on Myka’s shoulder, their hands together, fingers entwined. Myka noticed that Helena’s hand was shaking a little in hers. She sat up, drawing back from Helena a little to look at her, and asked if everything was okay.

 

“...Yes. Everything is fine. I suppose I’m just a little nervous.” Helena was hiding her eyes from Myka.

 

“What’s got you so nervous?” Myka was concerned, thinking that something was really wrong. She was always waiting for the other shoe to drop (whatever that meant, it had never really made sense to her, that saying) and any time something seemed wrong she thought it was the end. 

 

Helena turned to her, and presented Myka with a small box, baby blue with a small grey bow on it.

 

“This is why I’m nervous.”

 

Myka took the box from her uncertainly, and pulled the bow open, lifting off the lid slowly. She was more than a little scared of what might be in there. It was a key. She lifted her head slowly and met Helena’s eyes through a haze of tears.

 

“I don’t want you to be scared, Myka. This can mean whatever you want it to. But it is meant to be an invitation. That this can be a home for you any time you want it to be. That you are always welcome. I’m not asking you to move in with me, but if you asked me, I would say yes. Because I find that I cannot be away from you. I don’t know how to be without you.” She looked at her fingers, examined her fingernails carefully as she waited for Myka to respond.

 

“I...God Helena, this is...you’re amazing. I thought you...I thought you were going to tell me that you didn’t want this – us – anymore.” She was trying not to cry, but somehow tears were still pouring down her cheeks. She knew that she shouldn’t always expect rejection, not with Helena, not with her friends, but somehow she still felt like she was constantly flinching away from a blow. Waiting for things to go back to how they were.

 

Helena kissed her. “You are such an idiot. I love you.”

 

And there it was. It hung in the air, and Helena’s mouth was open a little in shock. Myka was no longer crying either, her eyes wide. She breathed hard for a moment, then she was on top of Helena, kissing her as if Helena was the only thing stopping her from drowning, pulling at her clothes in desperation. She needed to show her what it meant to her that someone loved her, that _Helena_ loved her. She needed this, and from the sounds Helena was making, so did she. Afterwards they lay together on the soft couch, Myka’s head pillowed on Helena’s chest.

 

“I love you too. In case that wasn’t clear.” Myka said, dryly, a little embarrassed by her own desperation.

 

Helena chuckled in response. They fell asleep there, tangled together, until the early hours of the morning when they got cold and sleepily made their way to the bed, collapsing together until morning.

 

They were drinking coffee in the small kitchen when Helena asked her about the key.

 

“So, did I go too far, giving you a key? Have I finally scared you off, Myka Bering?” She smiled softly, but there was an edge of concern in her voice, in the tilt of her head.

 

“Are you kidding me? Scare me off? I was scared that you were going to send me away! If anything, you’ve probably made me more annoyingly clingy than I already am.” She grinned at Helena.

 

“So, I gratefully accept your key, and though we both know I can’t just move in – at least, not yet – I appreciate all that this lovely key implies. And I am sure that in a month or so, you will heartily regret giving this to me.” She reached over and kissed Helena, her hands in her dark hair, just enjoying the sensation of the cool and silky strands running through her fingers.

 

“I could never get enough of this,” she breathed into Helena’s mouth. “Of you.” Helena’s lips and tongue stole away any other words she might have had.

 

And so their life continued, with study and music and dance and friends. It was like nothing Myka had ever experienced before. She spent some of her nights at her apartment, but more often than not she used her key.  Things between her and Helena were truly amazing. She felt like she was the first person in the world to discover love. Helena read to her before bed, and they slept entwined with each other every night. It was the same way they’d always slept, since that first night after Christmas, but now it was just intimate instead of confusingly intimate. Myka loved it, loved every minute of it, but she was so scared sometimes she felt like she might just die. Just combust, or stop breathing. She was so frightened that her life would somehow revert back to how it used to be. There were some nights when the fear came on so strongly that she clung to Helena like a drowning woman, silently begging a God she didn’t believe in not to take this away. Helena bore her strange behaviour with tenderness, the same way she had dealt with Myka’s bruises during that Christmas holiday that had brought them together. Being with Helena felt like being on stage, that euphoria, that magic of singing together in harmony weaving itself around them.

 

Myka sometimes woke to the sound of Helena’s sobs, and she held her and comforted her and dried her tears as she cried about Christina. They talked about Helena’s daughter, how she would have wanted Helena to be happy, and it seemed to Myka that Helena was healing from everything that had destroyed her in the past.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gravity, thou art a heartless bitch...and apparently, so art I. Don't hate me too much.

And then, as it inevitably will, the other shoe dropped. It was only a small stumble during a relatively simple dance routine. Steve stumbled, and Myka landed on her leg a little harder than she had intended. She was confused to find herself suddenly lying on her back, with the most excruciating pain in her right leg. Steve was looking down at her, concerned, and he was saying something, but she couldn’t really hear him over the roaring pain.  She tried to sit up, eliciting another roar from her leg. When she looked down, she saw the shape of her lower leg, bulging and discoloured. She managed to stay conscious, just. But Steve had to sit behind her and hold her up until the ambulance arrived.

 

“It’s cancer, Ms Bering. Osteosarcoma – bone cancer. It’s stage 1B, so it hasn’t spread. It weakened the bone in your lower leg and that’s why it snapped during such a low-impact injury. We can treat it with surgery and chemotherapy, for starters.” The doctor looked around at his audience of oddly dressed young dancers nervously. “We can talk about your options more later, but for now, we need to get you into surgery to repair the damage. I’m worried about the blood supply to your foot. Okay?”

 

Myka nodded, numbly. Helena wasn’t here, and she didn’t know what to do. Steve was holding one hand, and Pete the other, but she couldn’t take this in, couldn’t handle it without Helena here. Unfortunately she was meeting with the producer who had given her his card all those months ago, and her phone was turned off. So Myka went to surgery alone.

 

“You have to tell her, Steve,” she mumbled, as the sedative started to take effect. “Tell her I love her.” He nodded, swallowing convulsively with tears in his eyes. She took in the oddness of the usually serene young man looking so distressed. And then she drifted off into a not-unpleasant drug haze.

 

She woke an indeterminate length of time later, her eyes gummed together and her mouth tasting very much like something that would normally inhabit a cat’s litter box.  She tried to rub her eyes, suppressing a yelp of pain as she inadvertently almost pulled the needle from the crook of her arm.

 

 “Myka.” Her voice was soft, trembling.

 

“Helena.” She opened her eyes, slowly, peeling the lids apart. Helena’s face was inches from her own, her eyes wide and worried. She kissed Myka slowly, softly, and then sat down next to the bed, holding Myka’s hand tightly. Myka smiled at her, weakly.

 

“So, how was your day?” she said, brightly, as she tried to ignore the pain in her leg and her fear of what the future held. She didn’t expect Helena to burst into tears.

 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry honey, I was just trying to lighten the moment. Goddammit, where the hell is Steve? Steve?!” she called out. He came running in from the corridor outside, and immediately ran to Helena, wrapping his arms around her. They both comforted the distraught English girl as she sobbed.

 

_(“Jesus, Myka. How could you be so stupid? This has got to be bringing back horrible memories. If she loves you even half as much as you love her, she’ll be terrified. You’re such an ass!”)_

 

Eventually, Helena calmed down as they both held her, Myka awkwardly because of her leg and the gigantic cannula in her left arm, and Steve tenderly because he was just the sweetest guy ever.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s going to be okay.” Myka whispered to her, kissing her forehead.

 

Helena breathed in, wiping her face and slowly regaining her composure.

 

“You shouldn’t be reassuring me, Myka. You’re the one who’s sick. I’m just the idiot who can’t cope with losing anyone else...I’m so sorry.” She looked so sorrowful that Myka’s heart stuttered in her chest. She couldn’t control this, not cancer, but Helena couldn’t lose anyone else, it wasn’t fair.

 

The doctor chose that moment to sweep in to the room.

 

“Hello, Miss Bering, I’m Dr Boone. Are we okay to talk about your options now?” He eyed Steve and Helena significantly.

 

“It’s ok, doctor. These guys are my family. They can stay – assuming they want to.” She raised an eyebrow at them, and they both nodded.

 

“So, the surgery went well. We took out the tumour, along with a small amount of the surrounding bone, and replaced it with a metal implant. It will take time to heal, so you’re going to have to resign yourself to that. I understand you’re in school right now, but that’s going to have to take a back seat to your treatment. You’re going to need at least a few cycles of chemotherapy. It’s not going to be pleasant, Miss Bering, I’m sorry. But you have a more than reasonable chance of a full recovery.”

 

Myka didn’t say anything, she just nodded. The doctor said it would be a few days before they’d be able to let her out, so she asked Helena if she could bring her some books along with some clothes and toiletries. When Helena has gone, Steve sat by the bed, rubbing his scalp nervously, holding her hand.

 

“Are you ok? I know that’s a stupid question, but you seem like you’re taking this really well. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. If you don’t want to break down in front of Helena, I understand why, you know?” He grimaced a little, his words apparently not coming out to his satisfaction.

 

“No, of course I’m not okay, Steve. I just – I can’t hurt her anymore than she’s already been hurt. What happened with her family...I can’t let her get hurt like that again. So I can’t cry right now. I will fight like hell to be okay, for her, because she’s made me so damn happy I can’t even think straight. And I need you – and Pete and Claudia and everyone else – to be there for her, okay? I need you to support her when I’m not there, or when I’m too weak.” He nodded emphatically, and then went to the waiting room down the hall to update the others.

 

Myka picked up her phone and opened her emails. There was something she needed to do. The doctor had told her that her cancer might be due to a genetic abnormality that they’d read about in her family’s medical records, Li-Fraumeni syndrome. She’d heard of it before and she knew that her sister and maybe even her mother needed to know about it. So she emailed Tracy and told her, admonishing her not to tell their dad about Myka’s cancer, but to make sure that she and her mother got tested for the faulty gene. There. Her conscience was clear. She closed her eyes and waited for Helena to come back.

 


	13. 13

A few months passed, months of pain for Myka. Chemotherapy and pills and bloating and hair loss, days of vomiting so hard that she had to position herself carefully with a bucket on a chair in front of her to catch the vomit while she sat on the toilet in case she lost control of her bladder or bowels. After the first time, she learned that lesson. Thankfully she was on her own when she lost control of her bladder. She didn’t think her relationship with Helena would have survived that. Or rather, she didn’t think that _she_ would have survived it, had Helena seen it. She was wrong, of course, but she was still trying to hold on to herself as she was, some part of her dignity, fiercely. It wasn’t important, not really, but she held on to it nonetheless.

 

Helena was solicitous, caring and truly wonderful. She was also flawless, had all of her hair, was healthy and was holding back her career to look after Myka. Some part of Myka, some broken part that was being fed by the cancer, by the pain, by the humiliation she was feeling – that part was beginning to hate Helena. She knew entirely how ridiculous that was, because she loved Helena so much, but she also knew that rationality did not have much of a say after physical therapy that was so painful she cried herself to sleep, and days of vomiting that left her looking like an extra from a movie about Chernobyl. After the third round of chemo, Claudia had come by with a present. They were some special cookies that a hipster friend of hers had cooked up after Claudia had told him about Myka’s situation. After one cookie, Myka didn’t feel sick anymore. After the second, she sent Helena out for pizza and devoured nearly one large pizza by herself. Afterwards they made love for the first time in months. Myka couldn’t sleep for a while after that, so she watched as Helena slept deeply for what was probably the first time in months. As she took in how thin Helena was, saw the dark circles in her too-pale face, the thought suddenly hit her. _“I can’t do this to her anymore.”_

 

A few days after the pizza incident, Helena had finally gone to meet the producer again who had given her his card at the end of their last performance together. Myka had bullied her into going, she knew that. But she just needed some space to herself to think about things. She was sitting at the desk in the spare bedroom, writing some notes about things she needed to do when (if) she recovered, trying to organise her thoughts, when her cellphone rang. It was Dr Boone. He wanted to see her immediately, and he asked for the address because it was important that they speak right away. When he arrived, he asked where Helena was. Myka told him, and he looked even more concerned than he had previously. He looked like an oversized Neanderthal, Myka had always thought, and he looked particularly out of place among her and Helena’s things, her books and Helena’s odd devices that she tinkered with that looked like steampunk circuit boards.

 

He sat at on the edge of the couch.

 

“Myka. We got the test results back, your genetic tests. I am afraid – well, I know that we talked about this before – but it is Li-Fraumeni. Which isn’t necessarily a problem right now, as you’re recovering well - there isn’t any sign of tumour growth on your scans. But the genetic tests mean that it’s basically guaranteed that you will get some form of cancer again. So you have a decision to make, based on these results. We can simply monitor you to try to catch any cancers early. There are also some clinical trials you can get in on, which might help to delay the onset of any other cancers. One of which I am involved in, and I would be happy to enrol you if that’s what you want. The other, more radical option, is to remove...to undergo surgery. Bilateral prophylactic mastectomy and prophylactic salpingo-oophorectomy. Which basically means removal of all breast tissue and the ovaries and fallopian tubes. I know that it is a lot to take in, but it does offer a much better chance of survival, long-term. It’s not a guarantee, because with this genetic mutation, other cancers can occur. But with proper monitoring, the others can be dealt with much more easily than breast or ovarian cancer.” He sighed and looked at her worriedly. “I’m really sorry that Helena wasn’t here. I’m sorry to give you this news alone. But I brought some information that I think will help you both to make this decision.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from his bag and put them on the coffee table. He peered at her again, his hairy brows pulled together. Myka had to stifle the urge to giggle. She’d been stifling the urge ever since he said “oopherectomy”. Because it sounded funny. She thought that maybe she might be a little hysterical, but she wasn’t really that sure.  None of this was funny.

 

“Myka?  Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone for you?” Dr Boone (Nate, as he’d asked her to call him) was still looking at her, worried – probably because of the smile on her face that was so out of place given the circumstances.

 

She shook her head to clear it. “I’m fine, doc, don’t worry. I’ll read the information and let you know what I decide.” He nodded. If he noted that she said “I” instead of “we”, he didn’t comment on it.   

 

She heaved a sigh of relief when he left. She couldn't think straight, couldn't think about what he’d said. Because it had really sounded like her best option was to remove anything that made her female, taking away any possibility of her ever having a child of her own, of ever carrying a child. Not that she and Helena had ever talked about that. Her thoughts trailed off. _Helena_. She was going to lose it when she realised how serious this was. The bone cancer was bad enough, but the idea that Myka would always be at risk, even if she took these extreme measures and removed her breasts and ovaries – it would drive Helena insane. She had already lost so much, her entire family. Myka was lost, but somewhere inside she had already decided what the future would hold, and it didn't hold Helena. Not when Myka knew what it would do to Helena to be with someone who was always at risk of dying.

Helena arrived home a few hours later, smiling and just as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. She had a gleam of triumph in her eye as she regaled Myka with tales of how impressed ‘David’ was with her performance as Elphaba, how he thought she was just what he was looking for. He had a new project and he wanted her to be the lead, and if that worked out, there were possible film and television options he wanted her to consider. She was dazzling, beautiful and on any other day Myka would have covered her with kisses, told her how proud she was, and made furious love to her. But this was the day that Myka had been handed what could amount to a death sentence. Even if her leg healed well enough for her to be able to ever set foot on a stage again, chances were that she would have to have major surgery at some point in the near future. So her future, such as it was, was entirely uncertain. She might never return to performing arts, might spend her future disabled and useless.

 

Myka would never remember what she said to Helena, but she would always remember the way she said it. The way she spewed vitriol at this woman who had done nothing but love her, who had done nothing but gift her with the most exceptionally happy period of her life. She had no idea what she said, except for the last part.   
  
“You just want to save me because you couldn’t save your precious daughter.” Helena’s face was white, her mouth an ‘o’ of shock. And then she slapped Myka, slapped her so hard that her head rocked back. It was a shot worthy of Warren Bering. And Myka felt some sort of perverse _satisfaction_ that she’d finally made Helena snap like this, some sort of harsh triumph. It wasn’t like she had planned this, not consciously, but this would make things so much easier. Helena would leave, and she wouldn’t care if Myka lived or died. Then if she did die as she feared she might, it wouldn’t hurt Helena, wouldn’t break her the way that losing Christina had.

 

Helena’s hand was on her mouth, her face was white. She clearly couldn’t believe that she had _hit_ Myka, when the very reason they had become friends, had become lovers, was because she had looked after Myka following the abuse Warren Bering had inflicted upon his daughter. She coughed out a sob, once, before turning on her heel and fleeing the apartment.

 

Myka lay down on the couch, her face flaming from the slap. She would need to ice it. She called Steve. She had no idea what she said, but he was there within half an hour, his face white too. She tried to explain what had happened, but all she could do was cry, cry for Helena, and cry for herself and her pathetic lost dreams.

 

Steve called Pete, who came to the apartment with Claudia. They took Myka back to their apartment, and iced her swollen face for a while, then settled her in her (previously mostly unused) bedroom. She heard them talking in the living room in hushed tones, but she fell asleep, exhausted from her crying.

 

Her last thought before she gave in to sleep was of the key she had left on the coffee table of Helena’s apartment.

 

She didn’t see Helena Wells for five years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Li-Fraumeni is a real thing. I lost a close friend to it, and she in turn had already lost her entire family. Myka's experiences are partly based on that. Any medical or other inaccuracies can be blamed on my incomplete understanding of it all, so please forgive me. PS no lesbians will be harmed irreparably in the making of this fic.


	14. Chapter 14

Myka’s leg healed a lot better than it should have, all things considered. She had a slight limp unless she concentrated on _not_ limping, but given the alternatives, she was pretty pleased with that. She couldn’t dance the way she used to. But she did go back to Juilliard, and she finished her course and graduated with highest honours, concentrating primarily on acting and singing. She kept in touch with Tracy, who had also been found to have the faulty gene, and who was being monitored for any cancerous growths. Myka herself had frequent MRIs and other tests to monitor her condition. Helena had paid for all of her earlier treatment, and since their relationship was over, Myka had asked the hospital to stop sending the bills to Helena. She didn’t have any way to pay them, but it wasn’t Helena’s responsibility. Her bills had continued to be paid, however. She didn’t want Helena to know about her life, she wanted her to move on and be happy and _live_ , without the threat of Myka dying hanging over her head every day. But try as she might, she could never find out how Helena was monitoring her condition, and how she kept paying the bills. Helena was a successful actress now, having dropped out of Juilliard to headline a new Broadway show (no doubt the project she’d been talking about the day Myka had so successfully imploded their relationship). Though Myka regretted every day what she’d said, and how much she had hurt Helena, she didn’t regret that Helena no longer had to worry about her. She threw herself into work, and successfully auditioned for many of the roles she’d dreamed of for years. She still lived with Steve and Claudia for the most part in New York, but she occasionally took jobs on touring productions when she had to get away. She sometimes slept with a pretty woman in one city or another, who might have dark hair and dark eyes, but none of them were Helena. Better still, none of them cared about her or saw her again.

 

She saw the sidelong looks that Steve and Claudia gave her, and she knew that they thought she was a complete idiot for what she’d done to Helena. She couldn’t really disagree with them, not totally, but she believed with all her heart that Helena didn’t deserve what being with Myka would entail. The chemo was bad enough with the relatively trivial tumour she’d had in her leg. What would it be like if she got breast or ovarian cancer? It would have killed Helena. So she endured the looks and the sighs from her friends, their encouragement to ‘get back out there’ and try to have a life. But she wasn’t going to embroil anyone else in the fiasco that was her life. First her father beat the crap out of her at every possible opportunity, and then she finds out that she’s basically certain to die unless she gets radical surgery, and that even that is no guarantee...why would she subject someone to that? She was tainted, and she couldn’t – wouldn’t allow someone else, especially not someone she loved, be touched by it again. She fed the coldness inside her with that thought, and became even more distant. Even Steve began to avoid her most of the time.

 

She played Fantine. She played Mary Magdalene. She played Serena Katz. She was offered the role of Glinda/Galinda without an audition by someone she knew from Juilliard; she turned it down. She couldn’t even think of singing those words again, not without Helena opposite her. _“I’m limited.”_ The only time she came alive, broke out from black and white into technicolour, was on stage. She felt that was how it should be. Real-life Myka Bering was tainted. It was better that any life she had be lived solely on stage, where she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

 

Her life progressed very much in the way she thought it might. Darkness by day, brightened only by the stage lights each night. Then she had another MRI scan, and Dr Boone called her the day after.

 

“Myka. You need to come in. There was a spot on the scan.” Her heart sank.

 

When she reached the now-familiar office, he showed her the bright spot on the MRI. It was on her left ovary. It was time. Thankfully she was between jobs right now, and had just begun another round of auditions. She prepared herself, and signed all the forms, asking Steve if he would be her medical proxy. He agreed with a sigh that told her he didn’t approve, that she should have had Helena do this – that she should have stayed with Helena. But he still agreed, as she knew he would, and he dropped her off at the hospital on the morning of the surgery. She wouldn’t let him come inside, had held them all at arm’s length for so long that she didn’t know how to do anything else. There was some relief when Dr Boone told her that they were pretty sure the spot had been a cyst, but they would have to wait for pathology to confirm that once they had a sample. She’d still agreed to go ahead with the surgery, rather than just having a biopsy. She couldn’t live with this hanging over her any more. The last thing she saw before sinking under the anaesthetic was the memory of a pair of enigmatic brown eyes. She figured she would be happy if that was the last thing she ever saw.

 

“Myka. _Myka.”_ A light shone in her eyes, and she protested, moaned groggily, before succumbing again to unconsciousness.

 

She woke again a few hours later in a dim room. The world was pain, her body was alien. She groaned, crying, until cool hands soothed her face and a voice muttered about morphine. She drifted away as the pain became more distant.

 

She woke twice more, never opening her eyes, the same cool hands whispering across her brow and calming her. A familiar fragrance filled her nose. She didn’t have the capacity to question any of it, just cried until the morphine carried her away again.

 

The third time, the pain was there, but she felt removed from it somehow. She could hear beeping, mysterious noises and unfamiliar voices. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t. She croaked, and somehow the owner of the cool hands knew that she needed water.  A straw was placed in her mouth and she drew in the cold water gratefully. After a time, she concentrated on opening her eyes. She was still dreaming, she realised, when she looked into brown eyes that she’d last seen before she slipped under the tide of the anaesthetic. She sighed softly, and said a name she hadn’t spoken in five years.

 

“Helena.”

 

There were tears in the brown eyes now. That wasn’t right, why would her dream be of Helena crying? She tried to sit up, unsuccessfully, pulling what felt like a thousand stitches in her chest. She stifled a moan.

 

She opened her eyes properly, looking around her and taking in the hospital room and the woman standing next to her bed. She was a little older, with a few more lines on her face. But she was unmistakeably Helena. And unless Myka was _really_ high, she was actually here.

 

“Helena. How...you’re really here. Why would you come here? Why, when I did everything I could to push you away? You’re supposed to be happy, you’re supposed to be far away from me. Why would you come back to this?” She gestured at herself drunkenly – she was, after all, quite well-medicated.

 

Helena just looked at her, and shrugged delicately.

 

“I wish I knew, Myka. Why I couldn’t ever really walk away from you. Even after...everything. “ She looked away. “I tried. I met other people. I dated. But nothing ever felt the same. It appears that whatever we...had, it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. No-one has ever come close. And when I received Dr Boone’s message, I knew I couldn’t leave you to face this on your own. I contacted Steve and Claudia and they told me that you wouldn’t let them go with you, that you wanted to do it all alone.” Her eyes darkened. “I nearly left you to do it alone, too. I’ve never been so angry at anyone. Never. Not even when I found out that it was a faulty repair job by some plumber that cost my family their lives. But I couldn’t stay away. You’re a complete idiot, Myka Bering, but you’re my idiot.” Her mouth was pursed in anger. Which faded away into concern as she realised that Myka was sobbing, sobbing so hard she looked like she might tear her stitches.

 

Helena muttered a curse under her breath and slid into bed beside Myka, taking the sobbing woman in her arms and rubbing her back in small circles, careful not to dislodge the various drips and wires protruding from Myka’s pale flesh.

 

“Forget about all that for now, love. I’m here. I’m not leaving, no matter what you throw at me, so just let go of all of this rubbish you’ve been thinking. I’m here.” She began to rock Myka softly, whispering nonsense words in her ear. Myka’s sobs grew weaker, and she said, almost imperceptibly, “I fucked up, Helena. I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Probably not, sweetheart. But you’re stuck with me anyway.” She rocked her to sleep.

 

The next few times she woke up were much more pleasant. Her pain was mostly under control, and she was in the arms of the woman who made her happier than anyone else in the world. And like she had all those years ago, she decided to take whatever time she could have with Helena Wells. A moment with her was better than a lifetime without her.


	15. Chapter 15

Myka had no boobs. She couldn’t get used to it. They’d never been a part of her body that she particularly cared about, but she felt weirdly like she’d taken them for granted. She didn’t want Helena to see, but the woman had taken to bossing her around and ignoring her objections when she felt that Myka was trying to shield her. “There’s been quite enough of that bollocks,” she had said, huffily. Myka didn’t argue. When Helena was provoked enough to bring out the ‘B’ word, she meant business. When they first took off the bandages, Helena had stood behind her, face almost touching Myka’s neck, as the Frankenstein-like scars were uncovered.  Myka was horrified by the scarring, and although she knew that she would have reconstructive surgery, that her chest wouldn’t always look like this, she cried. Helena held her carefully to avoid touching any of the drains or drips that were still attached. They didn’t talk much while they were in the hospital. Myka slept most of the time, but Helena was always there when she woke up. After a few days, they went home together. Myka didn’t really register where they were going until Helena pulled in to a familiar parking garage.

 

“You kept the apartment?” she asked, incredulous.

 

Helena turned to her.

 

“I bought it. I still hoped you would come to your senses, Myka. I have never stopped hoping.” The honest love on her face shamed Myka.

 

They walked slowly together to the elevator, Myka leaning on Helena, and along the corridor to the apartment. Helena took out a familiar key.

 

“Would you like to do the honours, my love?” She lifted an eyebrow questioningly at Myka.

 

“No, please. You do it. You’re the one who kept the faith this whole time.” Myka smiled at her.

 

It was a shock to the system, coming back to this place. But it was a homecoming, and Myka was overjoyed. They didn’t talk much, but Helena stayed awake that whole first night, just holding Myka, taking great care with all her scars and bruises. Myka couldn’t stay awake, but since Helena seemed content to just hold her, she allowed herself to be held.

 

Myka was sore and stiff when she woke up, but it felt like a better kind of stiff, not like it had for the previous few days, like she was going to rip into pieces if she stretched. Helena’s side of the bed was empty. She could hear faint noises coming from the other room, so she slipped into the bathroom quietly, using the toilet and brushing her teeth before realising that she needed help to shower. So she went and sat on the couch, watching Helena as she moved gracefully around the kitchen, making coffee and toast. She didn’t look at Myka, just carried on with what she was doing, her face impassive. And so, so beautiful. It made Myka’s heart ache. She knew that Helena was angry, and that they would have to talk about all of this history, this gulf between them that she had caused, but right then all she wanted to do was drink Helena in. She didn’t know what was showing on her face, but she was surprised to see a faint blush colouring Helena’s cheeks as she caught Myka watching her.

 

“Good morning,” she said finally, after looking at Myka carefully for a moment.

 

“Good morning.” She smiled softly, eyes taking in everything she had missed about Helena – her grace, the way she bit her bottom lip when she was concentrating (it looked faintly obscene, somehow), the way her eyes narrowed when she was mad. The faint lines on her brow that hadn’t been there five years ago. The skin at the corner of her eyes, that crinkled when she smiled a genuine smile.

 

Helena put coffee and toast on the coffee table in front of her wordlessly, along with Myka’s morning pills – all 14 of them – and a glass of water. She sat down on the single chair, pulling her long legs up underneath her as she had on so many nights in her small room at Juilliard. A sigh escaped Myka at the sight.

 

They ate in silence, Helena seemingly lost in thought, and Myka watching her carefully, waiting for the explosion she was expecting. It didn’t come.

 

“You’re watching me,” Helena said, without looking at her.

 

“I’m sorry...It’s been a long time. We didn’t really get time to...talk or anything at the hospital, what with me being so high all the time. I’m sorry. I just...I still can’t believe you’re here. That we’re here.” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

 

“Well, I am here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course, but I moved to London a few years ago, and even that distance didn’t help, so I gave up and came back. So you’re stuck with me.” She looked at Myka again, angrily.

 

Myka flushed. She was so guilty, so sorry for what she had done. The enormity of it filled her. And the fact that Helena was here was almost impossible to believe.

 

She spoke hesitantly. “I know that nothing I can say will make what I’ve done better. I hope that you know how sorry I am. And I know that you understand my reasons, whether you agree with them or not, because you know me. But I promise you one thing for the future, whatever future we have together.” She looked at her hands, staring fixedly. “I will do better, for you. I have already contacted Abigail, and she’s going to take me on as a patient.” (Abigail had finished her degree and had worked as an actress for a year, before going back to school and qualifying as a psychotherapist. She had only ever really wanted to understand human behaviour, and that’s why she went into acting, she said. But psychotherapy made more sense to her. She had replied to Myka’s email immediately, telling her that she’d always wanted to help but that she was waiting for Myka to ask.)

 

“I know that I have...I have issues. Still, even now, I find it hard to believe that you could love me.” Helena looked up at her with shock on her face, and a little hurt.

 

“I know.” Myka held her hands up. “I know how ridiculous that sounds, especially since you’re here, even after...everything. But I think that part of a person that allows them to believe that other people can care for them...that they’re worthy of love...I think my dad beat that out of me. I’m not blaming anyone else, not even him, because I’m not stupid – I should have worked this out a long time ago. Back when we first got together, half the time I was out of my mind, terrified that you were going to leave me. Even when I was happiest, I still couldn’t stop thinking that something was going to happen that would make you stop loving me. But I guess I did that part all by myself.” She couldn’t look at Helena.

 

The couch shifted beside her, and hands took hers gently. She looked up reluctantly.

 

“Look, Myka. I’m not going to lie to you. I hated you for a long time. I am still not entirely over that. I am, in fact, so angry that I sometimes can’t speak. But I love you. And I always have, ever since we met. I think this is what it means when people talk about soulmates. I don’t mean that antiquated idea that there is only one person for each person in the world. But I mean that the chemistry between us, the parts that make us who we are – everything fits. I have never been as happy away from you as I am with you. So I will take us, broken as we are after everything, and I will cherish us. Cherish you. Because you are the one thing that makes me happy. Things are not perfect – nowhere near, in fact, but I will not give this up. I have always been impulsive. It’s part of what makes me a successful actress, I suppose. But I am also a logical woman, Myka. I have looked at my life and I can see two time periods when I was truly happy. The first was when my daughter was alive. And the second was when I was with you – first as a friend, then as a lover. And since it is not possible for me to have Christina back, I will not give you up again. Not unless you make me, Myka, and only then will I accept it if it is because I make _you_ unhappy – not because of your misguided ideas about protecting me. If you die, I will be lost, that is true. But at least I will have spent as much time with you as I can. The past is gone, and all we have is now.” She looked away from Myka, biting her lip in that distractingly sexy way that had always made Myka’s blood pressure shoot up.

 

She turned back and looked at Myka again. “I appreciate you telling me about your therapy, and I think it’s an important step for you. I understand why you did what you did, because I went to therapy myself. Not with Abigail, though, so you don’t have to worry about that. I spoke to my therapist about us -about you, a lot. About how things fell apart, and my therapist – he asked me to think about why you would push me away like that, why you would goad me into...” she paused for a moment, swallowing. “I finally worked out that you were trying to protect me, because of Christina. That in your own misguided way, you were hurting me to try and stop me from being hurt in future if you didn’t make it. And although I thought – still think, in fact, that it’s possibly one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard, in another way I did understand it. It’s what my therapist eventually began to call ‘Myka logic’. You believe you are worthless, and because I am somehow stupid enough to love you, it is imperative that you push me away before you hurt me.” She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. Then she turned what could only be described as a glare on Myka.

 

“Well, guess what? I won’t be pushed, not anymore. You love me, I love you, and for the most part we make one another happier than at any other time in our lives. So this is forever, for me. I will spend whatever time we have together trying my hardest to make you believe how much I love you. Maybe one day I will get it through that thick skull of yours.” She rapped her knuckles lightly on Myka’s head. “This cancer – it is terrifying, Myka. But nothing is certain in this life, and there is nothing written in stone to say that I will be here tomorrow either. Let’s take what time we have and make it count.”

 

Myka was speechless. She was in awe of this woman, always had been really, but she had no idea why Helena would come back to her after what she’d done, and although she knew exactly what Helena had said, she couldn’t absorb it. How could Helena come through all this and still love her? It was an impossibility to her, an impossibility sitting next to her in cute pyjamas.

 

“I wish I could tell you that I understand or believe everything you’ve just said, Helena. But I can’t, not yet. I hope I will, though, soon. I promise you that I will not push you away again. And if I do, you have my permission to do whatever you have to, to make me come to my senses. You are a miracle, Helena. One that I don’t deserve, not after all this. But I will work hard to deserve you. I love you, and I never stopped.” She looked up and saw the tears in Helena’s eyes. But she also had _that_ look in her eyes, and Myka knew then, somehow, that things would be okay. Myka moved closer to her hesitantly, and rested her forehead against Helena’s. She kissed her miracle woman’s lips softly, and was relieved when Helena kissed her back, first softly, then hungrily.

 

Later that same day, Myka was asleep on the couch, her head pillowed on Helena’s lap, when there was a knock at the door. It was Steve, Pete, Claudia and Abigail. Helena had somehow contrived to get them all in the same city at the same time, and insisted that they have a pizza and beer party. Myka didn’t protest. She knew that this kind of therapy was as important as any she might undergo with a therapist – the therapy of being surrounded by friends and love. The relief on Steve’s face was almost painful when he hugged Myka and she hugged back. Too many times in the past she had shrugged him off coldly, not looking him in the eye.

 

“You’re my Myka again,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I missed you so much!” They cried together, and the others piled on, careful to avoid Myka’s stitches, but making sure she knew that she was loved. It almost sunk in. Almost.

 

They played Guitar Hero and laughed like loons at Pete’s terrible hand-eye co-ordination, gasped at Claudia’s mastery of the game (she played _everything_ on expert, and still didn’t miss a note), and cried a little together when Myka fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. They hurt, but they were together. It was enough.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka starts her therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of violence and abuse.

Myka’s first therapy session with Abigail was not the most successful. Partly because she kept trying to deflect Abigail’s questions and laugh everything off. Eventually, Abigail held one hand up, stopping whatever it was that Myka was saying to try to distract her.

 

“Myka. I am going to speak to you for a moment as a friend, and not a therapist. This is not going to be professional, okay?” Myka nodded, gulping at Abigail’s tone.

 

“You. Are. An. Idiot. You nearly lost the woman of your dreams through your stupidity. You promised her that you would try to fix things, try to work things through. And now you’re trying to hide from me – God knows why, it’s not like I don’t know your whole life history now through Steve and Pete and Claudia – yes, and Helena too, because she spoke to me – as a friend – more than once. So get a grip, okay? Talk to me, let’s try working this stuff out, and get you happy and healthy. Helena deserves that from you, even if you think you don’t deserve it. So either be honest with me, or stop wasting my time.” She glared at Myka fiercely, and Myka reddened, dropping her head in shame.

 

“I’m sorry, Abigail. Could we start again, please?” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Myka Bering.”

 

The corner of Abigail’s mouth twitched, and she held out her hand, keeping a straight face as she shook hands with Myka and introduced herself.

 

“Now, let’s get started, for real, this time.”

 

The best piece of advice Abigail gave to Myka was during their second session. They were talking about how hard Myka found it to accept help, especially from Helena who she wanted so desperately to protect.

 

Abigail looked at her and said, “Think about it this way. The next time you need her help with something, big or small, and you feel that little spark of rebellion, or resentment, or whatever? Just take a deep breath, and ask yourself – _would you do it for her_? Whatever it is, would you do it for her? Because that’s what it’s about, being in a relationship. You are a partnership. Partners, not single people any more. You lean on her, and she leans on you. Like you’re two walls, falling over but leaning against each other.” She made an upside down ‘V’ with her hands. “That way, neither of you will fall. Think about it, okay?” And Myka did.  So a few days later, when she needed to go to the hospital for a wound check, and she was too exhausted to walk, she agreed quietly when Helena offered to get her a wheelchair. Then she snorted a little at the surprise on Helena’s face.

 

Life was not easy. Myka had procedure after painful procedure, where water was pumped into bags in her chest, placed underneath the muscles so that they would expand, to allow for implants to be used to replace her breasts. The spot on the MRI had turned out to be a cyst, after all, so she didn’t have to have chemotherapy this time, for which she was truly thankful. So in some ways the surgery hadn’t really been necessary, not right then. But it would have been eventually. Her return to her old self – as much as that was possible, at least – was a slow and painful one. She had to take multiple medications, all of which had side effects, she had to change her diet, and she was in pain most of the time, one way or another. She tried to bear it as best she could, but when she couldn’t, Helena was there with soothing hands and words of love. And as much as Myka wanted to push her away, wanted Helena not to see what Myka had become under the onslaught of disease and pain, she did what she had promised and kept trying, imagining what she would do if Helena was the one that was sick. As time went on, and with her therapy with Abigail going well, she began to believe that maybe she could be a whole person again, and that perhaps she was worthy of love.

 

They had been meeting for about two months when Abigail brought up Myka’s family, and more specifically, her father.

 

“So. We’ve talked a lot about Helena, and I think we’re making some progress towards your goal of being a better partner to her. Don’t you?” Abigail asked. Myka nodded. “Good. So what I think we should do now is focus a little more on how you got here. You broke it off with Helena because you didn’t want her to have to watch you die if your cancer advanced. But also, I think, you broke it off with her because you didn’t think you deserved her, and that you were somehow toxic to her – and everyone else around you. Would that be right?” Myka nodded again, chewing on a fingernail nervously until Abigail raised one eyebrow, indicating the offending digit. Myka knew well enough by now that the next step was Abigail slapping the hand away, so she pulled it out of her mouth quickly and folded her hands. “As one of your friends, I can attest to the fact that you have withdrawn significantly from all of the people that love you during the last five years or so. I don’t know all the details, but after discussions with a few of our mutual friends who were worried about you and Helena, I understand that there is a bit of an issue with your family that might have led you to behave this way. So, tell me about it.” She folded her arms and leaned back, inviting Myka to fill in the blanks.

 

Myka looked at her shoes, wondering where to start.

 

“Try the beginning,” said Abigail, startling her. Had she said that out loud? She looked at Abigail, puzzled, and Abigail laughed.

 

“It was just obvious what you were thinking. Come on, tell me what it was like at home.” She smiled encouragingly at Myka.

 

“Well, my dad wanted a boy. He called the bookshop “Bering and Sons” even though he had a girl – and then another. I think he thought it sounded distinguished or something. But it made me feel like I wasn’t...wasn’t _right_ , wasn’t good enough, from the time I was old enough to read, you know?” She looked up at Abigail for a second, and then continued to examine her shoes closely.

 

“So I felt like, from the start, I was a disappointment to him, simply because I was a girl, not a boy like he wanted. Even my name – I was going to be Micah, and they just changed the spelling when I turned out not to be the boy they wanted.” She stopped and took a breath. “Anyway, my mom was okay, nice enough I suppose, but she never said anything, never stood up for me. I think – although I can’t be sure – that he punished her for not having boys, that he maybe hit her too sometimes. But when I was a little older – eight or so – he started to hurt me when I did something wrong. Little things, firstly, like pinching me or holding my arm too tightly, leaving bruises. Then when I had a growth spurt at 12 the real fun started.” She laughed, bitterly.

 

“Do you want to take a moment, have some tea or something, before we carry on?” Abigail asked, with concern in her eyes.

 

“No,” Myka said. “If I don’t get this out now, I never will.” Abigail nodded, compassion in her eyes as she indicated for Myka to continue.

 

“He hit me the first time because I was teasing Tracy about her nose. She has one of those cute button noses, but I was being mean and telling her it was piggy. So she ran to my dad and told him, and he came in and asked me what I was saying to her. And as kids do, I denied it. He backed me into the corner of the kitchen, yelling like a madman about how he couldn’t abide liars and no kid of his was going to grow up as a liar. And he started swinging, punched me in the stomach, the arms – I was trying to defend myself – the chest. After a minute he stopped and walked away. He never said anything about it. And neither did I. I’ve never told anyone about that.” She met Abigail’s eyes again for a moment, and her eyes were filled with pain and fear.

 

“That’s how things continued, I guess. Anything I did wrong – forget to put a book back on the right shelf, not dusting the store enough, whatever excuse he could come up with. He slapped me once so hard that he dislocated my jaw. That was a fun few weeks at school – being the girl that nobody liked with her mouth wired shut. He broke my collarbone twice. And two fingers on my left hand – he caught them in the door ‘accidentally’. I could tell you about other injuries, but suffice it to say that he didn’t like me or want me, and he made that fact very clear. My mother never said a word. She was the one who took me to hospital when I had something wrong that needed to be fixed. He wouldn’t let her go most of the time, but the broken jaw, the collarbone – I had to go to hospital because people noticed. And probably more importantly, I couldn’t work in the store. Child Services got involved once but he managed to sweet talk them, and I lied. Then I came to New York, and the first Christmas when I went back, he beat the hell out of me, and I left and I never went back. So that’s it, I guess. The sad story of Myka Bering.” She smiled, shamefaced.

 

Abigail looked at her, sympathy etched into her face. The therapist had heard some awful stories in her time, but this one was made worse by the silence of Myka’s mother, who hadn’t ever defended her, and the behaviour of the people around her at school and in the town. No wonder the poor girl was so broken. Abigail kept her thoughts from showing on her face, however. Pity wouldn’t help Myka.

 

“So if you were a therapist, listening to what you just told me, what would you surmise about yourself from that story? If it was my story, how do you think that childhood would have affected me?” Abigail asked, trying to get Myka to look at her past from a different perspective.

 

Myka frowned and thought for a moment before speaking. “Well, I guess I would think that you might not think a lot of yourself, being surrounded by people who treated you that way. And I think you would be frightened to get too close to people, in case you got hurt again – physically or emotionally.”

 

“And how do you think it would be best for someone to overcome that kind of thought pattern?” Myka thought about it for a few moments and said, “Honestly, I don’t know. I think it’s just so ingrained in me now, I don’t know how to start.”

 

Abigail smiled at her. “I guess that’s where I come in, then?”

 

Myka smiled and said, “That’s why they pay you the big bucks!”

 

“Yeah – says the Broadway star!” Abigail rolled her eyes. “Anyway what I’d like to do is start with a little logic. Okay?” Myka nodded, curious.

 

“When you lived in Colorado Springs, your experiences of other people – your father, your mother, your classmates, the teachers. They were mostly negative, right? So to make sense of that, you decided that it was your fault, that it was something wrong in you that made everyone treat you the way you did. Which I suppose is pretty logical.” Myka nodded again.

 

“But since you left Colorado, your experiences with people have been different, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Another nod.

 

“So the people here have treated you well. More than well. You have a wonderful partner, who has treated you with incredible tenderness and forgiveness, despite your behaviour. You have a group of friends who have stuck with you for over five years during which you have behaved like – and I am quoting Claudia here – a complete douchenozzle. Friends who love and respect you. Since you have been here in New York, you have been treated well by 99% of the people you’ve met. So do you think that perhaps your first assumption – that you are the problem, and that you deserved the treatment you got at home – might be incorrect? Or do you just think everyone in New York is delusional or stupid?”

 

Myka blushed, because deep down she probably did believe the latter. She _knew_ in her heart that she was not worthy of this friendship, love, respect. But she also knew – in her head - that she was _._

 

“What I would like you to do, Myka, is start observing people. Anyone around you, your friends of course, but also anyone else you meet. Do they look at you as if they are repulsed by whatever you believe is wrong in you? Or do they treat you like a human being, do they care for you, do they respect you? Do strangers try to hurt you for no reason, or are they polite and pleasant? Observe, and learn. And then come back to me and we’ll talk some more.”

 

Abigail leaned forward in her chair, put her hand on Myka’s knee, and said, “It’s time for you to stop punishing yourself for what your father did, and for having cancer. Those things were – _are_ out of your control. What is in your control is what you do, how you behave from now on.”

 

Myka mumbled her thanks through a haze of tears, and Abigail surprised her by giving her a hug before she left the office. “Go home and kiss that hot girlfriend of yours.”

 

Myka was nothing if not obedient, and followed her doctor’s orders to the letter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena and Myka go back to work, and Myka talks to Abigail about something that's worrying her

By some miracle, nothing showed up on Myka’s next scan, six months after her operation. During that time, Helena had stayed by her side almost constantly. After the scan, she asked Helena to sit down with her so they could talk. Helena looked at her with a certain amount of trepidation.

 

“Don’t look at me like that, honey. I just want to talk about our future. Ours.” She took Helena’s hands and kissed her knuckles one by one. Helena smiled hesitantly.

 

“So, what I wanted to say is – I want you to go back to work. I am recovering well, and I’m hoping that with some more rest and physical therapy, I can go back soon too. I know you’re probably going to say no, but listen to me, please.” Helena looked at her sceptically, but nodded.

 

“I want you to be able to be you, so that I can be me. You looking after me – well, it’s been infuriatingly hard for me, but also wonderful. I keep thinking about our first week together, that Christmas, when you were keeping me in your room when I kept trying to leave. Some things never change, huh?” She grinned at Helena, who rolled her eyes in response.

 

“So what I’m thinking is, you go back to work, and I will come see you in whatever you’re doing, TV or Broadway or whatever, and at the end of the day or the week or whatever, we can sit and talk and have something to talk about other than my nipple tattoos or wound checks. We both need to get back into real life, away from cancer and everything that goes with it, for as long as we can. We both know there’s no guarantee here that I won’t get sick again, so let’s take all the life we can get. Will you think about it? Please?” Helena nodded, thoughtfully.

 

“I promise I’m not trying to get rid of you or push you away. I just would like to get back to some semblance of reality.” She kissed Helena’s knuckles again softly.

 

“I swear, Myka Bering, if you weren’t so bloody adorable...” Helena smiled at her, and then kissed her. And then they didn’t talk for a while, because they were too busy making out on the couch like teenagers.

 

Helena did go back to work. She played Mary Magdalene in a touring production of Jesus Christ Superstar. Myka stayed in New York but they flew back and forth to see each other often. Myka watched the show as often as she could. It had always been one of her favourites, and watching Helena sing had always brought that feeling welling up in her, the one that she couldn’t name, but that had set them on this path together so many years before. Myka continued her therapy, and Abigail told her that she had made a lot of progress in dealing with her issues. When her new breasts were at their full size, and the aforementioned nipple tattoos had been done, she felt ready to start auditioning for a few parts herself. Coincidentally, her first audition was with an up and coming director – Leena.

 

“Myka!”The smaller woman enveloped her in a wonderful hug. “How are you? I heard you were ill – are you okay now?” She looked at Myka with concern in her grey eyes.

 

Myka smiled at her. “I’m fine, Leena. I’m happy.”

 

“You really are, aren’t you?” Leena smiled broadly. “You and Helena found your way back to each other, huh?”

 

Myka just smiled. She didn’t have to answer, Leena could see it all over her face. They hugged again.

 

Myka got the part.

 

When Helena came home from her tour, they had a week together before Myka had to start rehearsals for Les Miserables – only in the chorus, but it was a start. Myka was very nervous, and met her lover at the door of their apartment with a cup of Helena’s favourite tea in hand. They kissed softly, wordlessly, and Myka took Helena’s bags and put them off to one side. They sat on the couch. Helena was pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but she was also luminous.

 

“So, did we make the right call, you going back and all?” Myka asked her, twisting her finger in her own curls nervously.

 

Helena sighed, but she was smiling. “Yes, we did. I’m exhausted, but it was wonderful. I feel – I feel like me. I hate to say this, because I don’t want to encourage you.” She smiled wryly. “But you were right. It was time.”

 

Myka let out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. Helena laughed, a bright, beautiful sound.

 

“Relieved, darling?” Myka nodded, blushing, and then she started laughing too.

 

There was one thing that was not yet resolved between them though, after all this time. They hadn’t had sex yet since they reunited – and Myka was worried sick about it. She talked to Abigail about it during their session in the week before Helena was due to return.

 

“I’m scared, Abigail. I love Helena, and she is sexy as hell, but I have trouble looking at myself in the mirror, even now. I haven’t been naked in front of Helena – other than when she’s helped me shower – since we got back together. What if she isn’t attracted to me anymore?” She chewed on her nails distractedly. Abigail slapped her hand away from her mouth.

 

“Sorry,” she said, indicating Myka’s hand. “You need to talk to Helena. She clearly loves you very much. You have healed really well, Myka, from everything you’ve told me. I know you have scars, but I think that Helena, if she’s the person we think she is, probably views them as a badge of honour. You have survived so much already. This part – this should be the fun part. So when she comes home, have a talk. Tell her you’re feeling insecure. You’re a big girl, you can do this. From what I remember, you two were always disappearing off together, giggling like schoolgirls. I don’t think you’ll have too many problems.” She smirked a little, and Myka rolled her eyes. “I know your sex drive will probably be affected by the surgery, but your doctor probably gave you some medication to help with that, right?” Myka nodded. “So, talk to Helena. Okay?” Myka nodded, and chewed on her lip thoughtfully.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Part 1 of my little Broadway series.

Myka ordered dinner from a Thai place nearby, and after they’d eaten, she presented Helena with a glass of red wine. Helena looked at her suspiciously.

 

“What are you up to, Myka Bering? “ Her eyes were narrow. “You never do this unless you want...” she thought for a moment, and then stopped. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “ _Oh...”_

“I know we haven’t done this in a while, honey.” _(Five years, her traitorous mind reminded her.) "_ It hasn’t really been a priority. But I feel like I’m ready. And I’m really scared, Helena. I don’t feel sexy, I feel like I’ve been hacked to pieces and put back together, you know?” She didn’t say anything else, but her eyes said everything Helena needed to know.

 

Helena took her by the hand wordlessly, and brought her into their bedroom. She closed the door, and turned Myka so that she was facing the full length mirror they used to get ready in the morning. Helena stood behind her. She lifted Myka’s hair, and kissed her neck softly. Myka shivered. Helena’s hands reached round to undo the buttons on Myka’s shirt slowly. She removed it, and began to make her way down one arm, then the other, kissing the skin softly as she went. Her eyes held Myka’s in the mirror. She reached around again, trailing her hands slowly up Myka’s sides. She traced the scars on Myka’s abdomen, the one on her chest from her chemotherapy port, and the older one on her collarbone from when it had been broken. Her breath was warm on Myka’s neck.

 

“I love you.” She breathed into Myka’s ear. She knelt in front of Myka, kissing each scar, each freckle, from the bottom of her abdomen up to the bottom of her bra. “You are beautiful.” She reached around and undid the clasp, pulling the strap from one shoulder and then the other. Myka closed her eyes for a second. Then she got a hold of herself, and looked in the mirror again, watching the woman she loved kneeling in front of her. “You are a warrior. Warriors have scars. I don’t recall any warriors in history that had much trouble getting the girl.” Helena smiled up at her and kissed her breasts softly. It didn’t feel the same, of course it didn’t – those nerves that had survived the surgery had been damaged. But it still stole Myka’s breath for a moment each time Helena’s lips touched her skin.

 

“Is this ok?” Helena looked at her, concerned at her gasp of breath.

 

“Yes,” Myka said. She was shaking, but how could she not enjoy the sight of Helena Wells kneeling in front of her, worshipping her scarred body?

 

Helena stood up slowly, kissing Myka’s chest and neck, and pulled Myka’s head down for a kiss that left them both gasping for breath. “I think that answers the question of whether we’ve still got it, don’t you?” she murmured against Myka’s suddenly dry mouth. And it did.

 

It wasn’t the same, not entirely. Myka struggled to let go and forget her insecurities, her scarring, her worry that she wasn’t feminine enough. And some of her nerves were damaged from the surgery and the chemo. But Helena persisted, making love to her both with her body and with her words. And afterwards, when they were entwined together, Myka cried. But it was mostly happiness and release. Recovery wasn’t instant, she knew that. But she could do it, could keep trying, for this woman. 

 

 

It seemed like fate when Claudia dropped by one afternoon to talk to Myka, who was just finishing her final week in the chorus of Les Miserables. Claudia had decided, after several years of study, that she wanted to be a stage manager. And when Claudia Donovan put her mind to something, she did it. She had just got a job with a new company but Myka didn’t know what show it was.

 

“So, I got a new job,” Claudia said laconically, her short skirt and massive boots making her look like some sort of punk fairy.

 

“I know, Steve told me,” Myka replied. “So, what’s the show?”

 

“Well, would you believe it, I got assistant stage manager for Wicked at the Gershwin. I mean, have you seen that set? That shit is crazy complicated, it’s gonna take an age to get the tech stuff through my head for a start. But the reason I came by is that I was told you were offered the part of Glinda a while ago and turned it down. And the young lady who is currently playing the part is a bag of donkey balls. Those are the actual words of the stage manager, I shit you not.”

 

(Okay, a foul-mouthed punk fairy.)

 

“Really?” Myka was tempted, despite herself. It felt things were coming full circle, somehow. Like she was getting a second chance after the things she’d been through – _they’d_ been through. She chewed on her hair thoughtfully.

 

“So, I spoke to Artie about it, the director. He says he saw you and Helena play the parts at Juilliard – can you believe that? And he wants you. Or more specifically, he wants both of you. Amanda has been playing Elphaba for a year and she’s ready to move on, so if you and HG want the parts, they’re yours. I wanted to talk to you first though, because HG has been so protective of you, and she might not be into the idea of you doing eight shows a week. I know you’re recovered and all, but I don’t want to be the one to suggest it to her in case she murders me gruesomely. Or, you know, at all.”

 

Myka laughed, smiling her lopsided smile. Claudia was relieved to see the change in her friend. She, Pete and Steve had been worried about Myka for such a long time because of the cancer, and what she put herself and Helena through as a result.

 

“It’s okay Claud, I’ll talk to her about it and we’ll see if she’s interested. She probably won’t kill me.”

 

Claudia raised an eyebrow sceptically.

 

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, dude.”

 

So later that evening, Myka broached the subject with Helena as they were having a late dinner after their respective performances. Helena was playing Mimi in Rent. They were both exhausted, so she figured that Helena would be too tired to get too angry.

 

“So, honey. I saw Claudia today.” She smiled at Helena, trying to look appealing. Helena narrowed her eyes suspiciously, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork.

 

“And?” One eyebrow was raised. Hmm. Myka was suddenly uncertain about her partner’s possibly murderous tendencies. Claudia must have got the idea from somewhere, right? They’d been apart for a long time – maybe she had moonlighted as an assassin between shows. Myka gulped.

 

“Well. She’s working on Wicked. And...”

 

“And?” The eyebrow again.

 

“She says that the Director wants to offer us the leads. You and me, that is.” She closes her eyes, and waits for the explosion.

 

“Why are you wincing like that, Myka?” Helena looked at her in annoyance.

 

“Well, Claudia was worried that you might murder her in a gruesome manner if she told me about the offer. So I said I would mention it to you, in the hope that you might be less likely to murder me.”

 

Helena was still.

 

“And why, exactly, has Ms Donovan suddenly decided that I have homicidal tendencies?” She asked, politely. Terrifyingly so.

 

“Um...because it’s full time, I guess, unlike my current contract, and she thought that you might think it was too much for me, and blame it on her, and ergo – the murdering.” Myka bit her lip.

 

“Hmm. Well, she does have a point there. It would be a lot of work. And I would be – I am – concerned that you might not have the stamina, that it might make you ill. But that decision would ultimately be up to you, wouldn’t it? Not me.”

 

Myka gulped. She knew Helena well enough to know that was a trick question.

 

“Well, of course, honey, but I would never do anything like that without checking that you were okay with it first.” She kept her tone sweet and meek, and looked as appealingly at Helena as she knew how.

 

“I don’t know why I put up with you, Myka Bering.” She sighed, picking up their plates and putting them in the dishwasher. Myka moved to Helena, put her arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck.

 

“Please, honey, think about it. I would love to do it and I know you would too. We haven’t worked together since Juilliard and I have never enjoyed being on stage as much as I did then. With you.” She turned Helena around and batted her eyelashes.

 

“Dear God, woman. Did you actually just bat your eyelashes at me? Have you no shame?” And this lead to tickling, a lot of undignified giggling, and then a different kind of undignified behaviour that possibly would have been more appropriate for a bedroom than a kitchen. But neither of them cared. And the next day Myka called Claudia and asked her to tell Artie Nielsen that they wanted the job.

 

It was hard. _So_ hard. The rehearsals were gruelling, everything had to be perfect. Artie Nielsen was a taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the business. Myka was so exhausted that some days she slept right up until it was time for hair and makeup. But then, when she and Helena took over from Amanda and ‘Donkey Balls’, as Claudia insisted on calling the poor young woman who was playing Glinda, the show itself – my God, it was the best feeling she’d ever had. Helena was flawless, and if Myka was honest, so was she. The reviews called them electrifying, stunning, and all manner of other complimentary things. It was a whirlwind, a year of her life that she would always remember with incredible fondness. But as all things do, it came to an end. They had been hired, again together, to play an ingénue from the Mid West (Myka) and her rival, a slightly washed up but talented actress who  hadn’t made it out of the chorus (Helena) in a new television show. It was about the development of a new Broadway show about the life and loves of Marilyn Monroe. Their careers were skyrocketing. Their last night performing in Wicked was complete perfection. Myka had to concentrate hard to keep herself from crying with the sheer joy of it, to stop the tears from closing her throat and making her unable to sing. But even she was powerless to stop them when, as they were taking their bows, there was a special announcement over the PA system.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like you to bear witness to a first for the Gershwin. One of our performers has a very important question to ask. Please, give your attention to Miss HG Wells.”

 

And Helena was kneeling in front of her, holding one of her hands, and offering a ring in a baby blue box - the same box, Myka was sure, that had once contained a certain key. Myka didn’t hear her say the words, but she read her lips, and her intentions, and she cried, “Yes,” with every ounce of passion that was in her. The applause was thunderous, and Helena was putting a _ring_ on her finger, a frickin’ ring, and everyone was surrounding them and pounding them on the back and hugging them and then they were in her dressing room and Helena was kissing her, kissing her and she was smearing Myka’s face with green makeup, but she didn’t care. She thought her heart would burst because it couldn’t possibly contain this, what she felt.

 

Three weeks later they were in serious rehearsals for the new show. They were working with some seriously amazing people, talented and famous. The music was amazing – luscious, textured and rich harmony with beautiful orchestration. They were both smitten with the composers, in a platonic way of course as the guys were both as gay as she and Helena apparently were for each other. But it was a beautiful production and it was clear how big of an opportunity this could be for both of them. They were hardly entirely unknown, but this show could get them into the living rooms of America, and while fame certainly wasn’t Myka’s goal, it definitely helped in getting an actress the right jobs, the ones that everyone wanted. She and Helena worked feverishly to get it right. The first time she heard Helena sing “Second hand white baby grand,” in rehearsals, she cried. She (and everyone else) had goosebumps, and she was in entranced by the way Helena sang the song, the feeling in her voice bringing them all back to better times. Myka knew that Helena was channelling her pain at the loss of her daughter, and her heart ached.

 

After that rehearsal, Helena disappeared without telling Myka where she was going. It was unusual for her to do something like that, because she liked to be near Myka nearly all the time. But she was gone. She wasn’t in her dressing room, and she didn’t answer her phone, so Myka left a message, swallowing her unease, and went back to the apartment to wait.

 

It was after midnight when Helena returned. She looked worse than Myka had ever seen her. Her hair was in disarray, her face red and she had clearly been crying. Myka was terrified by the wildness in her eyes. She went to her, leading her to a chair, and asked the question that she thought she might not want to know the answer to.

 

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened to you?” She was stroking Helena’s hair softly, but her hand stilled, suddenly, at Helena’s next words.

 

“Myka...I’m...I’m pregnant.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about that ending. It wasn’t intended to be so much of a dun-dun-dun moment, but HG Wells does not deal well with emotional turmoil. Helena never really dealt with Myka’s rejection, and struck out in the only way she knew how – which, in this universe, is less Trident-y and more sex-y. So now there are consequences. The first part of Helena’s story, Defying Gravity, will be up soon.


End file.
